The Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew: The Treacherous Theater
by ptaernblueshark
Summary: Nancy Drew pays the Hardys a visit during summer break from college, only to get wrapped up in a mystery with Frank and Joe. A murder and kidnapping in the auditorium where Frank works has the trio racing against time to solve the mysteries before the curtain rises on opening night. Sequel to The Gargoyles of Harrison.
1. Chapter One: The Concerned Call

**DISCLAIMER:** None of the Hardy Family, Drew Household, or any other characters featured in the Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew books belong to me. All other suspects and characters are of my own creation.

 **Author's Note** : Hello all! After a lengthy hiatus from writing fanfiction, I have decided to return for my second story. My first piece (linked here) followed Nancy and the Hardy Boys through some dangerous times at a boarding school. It is not necessary to read that first, although I would recommend it, particularly because there is a character from that story who is also in this story as well. In order to maintain this timeline, Nancy and Frank are 19, while Joe is 18, and all three are in college. I hope you enjoy this sequel in Bayport!

If there was one thing that would be the death of Joe Hardy, it was cleaning.

"I expect that shower to be pristine by the time you're done with it!" Aunt Trudy called from another room. "And your room still has clothes everywhere, they had better all be in drawers or your hamper by the time our guest arrives."

Joe shook his head; he loved his aunt dearly, but this was a bit overboard. "Aunt Trudy, Nancy is literally going to have no reason ever to be in my room during their visit."

His aunt's stern face appeared in the door. "I do not need your sass right now, Joseph. It's the idea of a clean house that matters."

Joe rolled his eyes, making sure he was facing the shower so his relative couldn't see. "It's stupid that Frank gets out of having to do all this cleaning today simply because he has play practice today. He isn't even in the production."

It was summer break, but unlike Joe, who could easily entertain himself for hours binge-watching shows on Netflix, Frank had to find some job or hobby to keep himself occupied without being bored aside from the occasional mystery. This summer, that meant working as the stage manager for the Bayport Theatre Company's production of _Waiting for Godot_. Opening night was just a handful of days away.

"Now Joseph, stage managing is a very important job," Aunt Trudy contended. "I'm sure Frank is very stressed right now. I remember being the stage manager for my school plays in high school, and it was a much harder occupation than anyone else realized."

Joe groaned, returning his attention to scrubbing the interior of the shower and wondering just how stressed his brother actually was.

As it happened, at that particular moment, Frank's head was about ready to burst.

"What do you mean, we don't have a moon prop!?" He could feel flecks of Craig Marston's spit assaulting his face. "At the end of Act One, the moon comes up. That means we need a moon. Do I need to do your job for you?"

"No, Craig," Frank replied through gritted teeth. "It just wasn't on the list of props you gave me, so I didn't happen to find or make one. What size do you want it to be? And how do you want it to appear?"

"Do I look like the stage manager? No." Craig turned his gaze from Frank back to the stage. "I already have enough to deal with being the director. Figure it out." Craig stalked back to the front row of the auditorium to take his seat and continue the rehearsal.

Frank kept all the nasty thoughts in his head, his face beginning to burn with embarrassment. Knowing Craig, he could come back with the perfect prop moon, and he would find something wrong with it.

"Oh well," he muttered to himself, "if he's giving me creative license, then he'll have to deal with whatever he gets."

As the director had mentioned at least a dozen times within the hour, they were exactly a week away from opening. What the hell could he pull together for a moon in that amount of time? Frank made his way around to the side entrance and took the small hallway to the backstage area of the Bayport High School Auditorium.

"Sounds like Mr. Marston is mad at you," someone commented as he entered. Frank squinted to see in the dim lighting and saw Henry Burke.

"Yeah, just a bit," the Hardy boy replied, smiling. He wasn't the only one who despised working with Craig among those in the cast and crew, but the 11-year-old playing the role of the Boy made the whole experience much more bearable.

"He can be a bit bratty," Henry agreed. Frank was shocked; he had never heard Henry talk about their director like that.

"Let's not speak unkindly about Mr. Marston."

"Tell me I'm wrong," Henry challenged. He grinned when Frank stayed silent. "Yep, I thought so."

Frank smiled, too. His smile vanished when he heard Craig's commanding voice calling for him yet again.

"What's up, Craig?" he asked, stepping onto the stage so the director could see him.

"You need to remind Lily that her hat stays on the stage for Act Two. If it doesn't it's going to screw Vladimir over and that's the last thing we need."

Frank flashed an apologetic smile to Howard Monroe, who played Vladimir, for Lily Pickering's mistake. "Alright, I will." Frank stepped back off and went in search of the actress playing the mute slave, Lucky.

Once he had given the director's note to the petite lady, he went back to his task of figuring out a moon. Frank had somehow become the props and costume manager as well as the stage manager for the production, all of which he enjoyed. What he didn't enjoy was working with Craig.

"I suppose just doing a cardboard cut-out would be good," he surmised as he stood just offstage, still being mindful of his cues for scene changes and the like. "But then I would need a talented artist to help out." Nancy's name sprung to his mind. He pulled out his phone and sent her a quick text, even though he knew she wouldn't get it until after she got off the plane.

"Hey, Frank!"

"Sorry about that, Craig." Frank turned his full attention back to the play, feeling bad for missing a cue. Then, as he scanned his script, he realized he didn't miss anything. "What's up?"

The director beckoned to him, so he dropped down off the stage into the front row. "You see that guy up in the back there?" Frank looked to the back of the lower-level seating and noticed a man with a baseball cap sitting in one of the seats. "I don't know who he is or why he's here, but he needs to go. We're in the middle of rehearsing and we can't have just anyone showing up to watch."

Frank nodded. The show was being done as a charity fundraiser for the local hospital, so he understood why Craig didn't want anyone to get to see the play without at least paying admission.

The dark-haired teen walked to the back of the theater. He could feel the man's eyes following him up the steps, which unnerved him just a little.

As he reached the man, he said in a hushed tone, "I'm sorry, sir, but this rehearsal is closed to the public. If you want to see the play, though, our opening night is – "

"I would much rather just sit and watch it now," the man said in reply. At this, Frank began sizing him up. He was a tall man, but pretty skinny; it wouldn't take too much to try and remove him by force. Of course, that was more of Joe's move than Frank's.

"Unfortunately, that isn't really one of the options here," he contested. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

The man glowered at him from beneath his Orioles cap, but stood after a few seconds. "If you insist." He walked to the exit and let himself out, Frank's eyes following him as he went.

After he was sure the uninvited guest had left, Frank returned to his post backstage for the remainder of the rehearsal.

"Alright, let's get everyone out here for some closing comments," Craig called. The five actors in the production and Frank entered from offstage and plopped down. Craig joined them on the stage via a set of steps leading from the edge of the orchestra pit.

The cast and Frank sat through several minutes of Craig's notes, some good, most not-so-good. By the way the director made it sound, Frank would've thought the play was disastrous and falling apart at the seams. It was anything but.

The cast was immensely talented, given that they were all locals. Although it was a small group, they all worked incredibly well as a team despite the vast age and personality differences.

Finally, the meeting was over, and everyone was dismissed for the day. Frank felt his phone buzz. It was Nancy: _Of course I'll help you make the moon_

The teen looked at the time and did the math, figuring out that if she had just arrived at the airport, his father would probably arrive with her in a couple hours.

"You're certainly in a rush to get out of here," Lily said as Frank hastily packed his bag. Everyone else was mulling about and talking, with the exception of Henry, who had been pulled aside by Craig.

"We have a family friend who's arriving shortly, and I haven't seen her in months now," Frank explained. He straightened up, dwarfing the 30-year-old, who stood barely over five feet.

Lily patted him on the back. "Well, have fun. I hope you don't plan on seeing her too much over the next several days, though, with how our schedule is looking."

"Ugh, I know," Frank grumbled. "Luckily her visit is for two weeks so it's not like I won't get to see her at all. Plus she apparently loves this play and can't wait to see it."

Lily looked stunned. "And how old is she?"

"My age."

"Huh." Lily shrugged. "It's unusual to find someone so young who loves Beckett's plays. Some can have an appreciation for it, like you or me. But if she truly loves it, she's special. In a good way," she added quickly.

Frank laughed. "That she is." With that, he said goodbye and departed, rather than stay with everyone else who was chit-chatting.

He got back to the house to find his mother cooking up a storm and Aunt Trudy yelling at Joe about something or other. Despite Nancy's impending arrival, it seemed like a typical evening in the Hardy household.

"Anything I can do to help you, Mom?" Frank asked, always ready to please Laura Hardy.

"Why yes, Frank. I had asked Joe to make the bed in the guest room and just dust the bureau and side table to make sure it's clean, but it sounds like Trudy hasn't found his room to her satisfaction."

"Yikes, she expects him to get that whole room cleaned before Nancy gets here? She'd have a better chance completing a marathon in that amount of time," Frank joked. "I'll get right on it."

Frank finished prepping the guest room, and then emptied the dishwasher and set the table as well. Just as he finished placing the last glass, his phone buzzed.

"Hello?"

"Hi Frank, it's Valerie Burke."

"Hi Mrs. Burke, what can I do for you?" Frank was confused about why Henry's mother would be calling him, but waited for her explanation.

"I was wondering if Henry was at play practice today. He hasn't come home yet. I tried calling Craig but he didn't answer, so I figured I would call you next."

Frank nodded. "Yeah, he was there today for the full rehearsal. I happened to leave before him though, so I'm not sure where he went after that. If you'd like, I can go take a look around the auditorium."

"Oh, no, you don't have to do that," Mrs. Burke replied hastily. "I'm sure he's just off with his friends somewhere. I don't want to make any trouble for you."

Frank scrunched his eyebrows together. "Alright, well, feel free to call me back if you find him."

"I will. Thanks, Frank."

Frank ended the call and stuck his cell phone back in his khaki shorts. Something about the whole thing didn't sit right with him. Henry wasn't always the perfect angel, but he didn't ever seem the type to play hooky from his parents.

"Hey Joe, you wanna go on a field trip?" he called up the stairs. Soon his brother's head appeared over the banister.

"Um, depends on what it is. Plus, isn't Nancy due in soon?"

"It shouldn't take too long." Frank outlined his plan to go down to the auditorium and check to see if Henry was there. A couple minutes later, the duo was bidding their mother and Aunt Trudy goodbye.

"Just call me if Nancy shows up and we'll head back," Frank instructed them as Aunt Trudy planted a firm kiss on his cheek.

"Good luck, and call me if you need anything," Mrs. Hardy instructed. The brothers both assured her that they would.

"And I don't care what it takes, you'll be getting that room clean soon enough," Aunt Trudy informed Joe. Everyone laughed except the blond, and the Hardy Boys headed out to the car.

Frank and Joe pulled up to the high school about 10 minutes later, then walked down the path to the auditorium entrance. The only two people who had been granted keys to the building were Craig and Frank as the director and stage manager, and even then, the key only got them into the auditorium; the rest of the school was closed off for the summer.

Joe arrived at the door first, rattling the handle. "It's definitely locked. I don't think your kid is in here."

Frank shrugged. "Yeah, I guess not." He felt a buzzing in his pocket, and immediately reached for his phone and pulled it out, hoping it was Mrs. Burke. Instead, the caller ID read _Dad Cell_. Frank answered it. "Hello?"

"Hiya, Frank. Just calling to let you know that Nancy and I just arrived. Your mother filled me in. . . are you two going to be much longer?"

"Nah, the auditorium is locked up. We should be home in about 10 or so." Frank turned back to go to the car when he stopped in his tracks. Oh no.

"Dad, we're going to be a little bit." Without hearing his father's response, Frank hung up and turned around. Joe ran into him.

"Oof! What're you doing?" his brother asked. Frank pointed, and Joe followed the direction of the finger straight to a bike chained to a bike rack.

"That's Henry's bike. He never left practice today."

Joe's mouth set in a thin line. "That's not good." The Hardy Boys turned back around and made a beeline for the auditorium.

Frank grabbed his key and inserted it into the lock, pulling the door open and releasing a blast of cool air. "Well, there's another good reason for coming back. Seems like Craig forgot to turn off the A/C again."

"Why don't you go take care of that, and I'll start looking for Henry in the auditorium itself," his brother suggested.

"Good idea," Frank agreed. He really wanted to find Henry, but he could still do that on his way to turning off the A/C in the main office. Unfortunately, his search for the boy proved fruitless, though he did succeed in his other mission to turn off the air conditioner.

Finally, Frank headed into the auditorium, satisfied that there was no other place outside of it that Henry could be.

"Dude, you're gonna want to come see this." Joe's head popped around the backstage curtain. "It's not good."

The older Hardy's walk turned to a jog at his brother's urgent tone. "What?"

"Footprints."

Frank hopped onto the stage, careful to avoid any props, and followed Joe behind the curtain to find a trail of footprints, leading from the props storage room and out a side door. The trail was left in blood.

"You follow the prints, I'll look in the props closet," Frank ordered. The blood was a bad sign. A very bad sign. On the other hand, the footprints were small enough that Henry could've made them. That eased the nausea Frank was experiencing, although not very much.

The detective made his way closer to the closet, careful to avoid the evidence that led from one door to another. He tried the knob, and found it unlocked.

"I definitely locked this today," he mumbled. With a quick shove he opened the door, and nearly tripped over something on the floor in the darkness. Frank grabbed his phone and turned on the flashlight.

It was a body.

I hope you enjoyed this first chapter, cliffhanger and all! As it stands, the plan is for a twelve-part story, though this may be adjusted depending on how the story flows. Some of the future chapters have been completed but I want to stick to a one-per-week schedule. Who's dead? Where's Henry? Will Joe ever clean his room? Some of your questions will be answered in the next chapter!


	2. Chapter Two: The Awaited Arrival

**DISCLAIMER:** None of the Hardy Family, Drew Household, or any other characters featured in the Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew books belong to me. All other suspects and characters are of my own creation.

 **Author's Note** : Yay second chapter! I think Thursdays will be my day to post each week, just based on my schedule. I'll admit, this chapter is much more expositionary than usual (yes, that's a made-up word, but it fits what I'm trying to say the best). However, I think you'll find some very interesting plot developments. Also, this is my final spoiler alert to let you know that, if you haven't read my other story (link in Chapter One's A/N) then I suggest you do, since we have a guest from that story who makes their first appearance in this chapter. Behold, Chapter Two!

"Please, Nancy, you must be starved. Go ahead and start eating, we don't have to wait for the boys."

In most scenarios, Nancy would've maintained that they should wait for everyone to eat. Of course, the last meal that she'd had was a few hours ago and consisted solely of peanuts on the flight, so she didn't refuse as Mrs. Hardy passed her the platter of chicken.

"I take it your trip was rather uneventful," Aunt Trudy said, helping herself to some food after their guest. Nancy couldn't help but notice the tightly-set jaw the older woman had, and imagined that she was stressing about Joe and Frank's absence for her arrival.

"Yeah, although I'm definitely a bit drained from all my traveling recently," Nancy admitted.

"Where was it you just got back from?" Mrs. Hardy asked.

"Kansas," Nancy said. She had been called down to the Midwestern state on a curious case revolving around several cases of madness sparking within the town. There had been no end in sight and the teen detective was actually worried that she might have to cancel her plans to stay with the Hardy family. Luckily, a crucial lead came around in the mystery just in time, but Nancy was left exhausted. "It'll be nice to get a bit of a break from work. Frank texted me earlier and asked if I would help with a prop for the play."

"A prop? I thought he was all done with those darned things," Mr. Hardy said.

Nancy shrugged. "No idea. He texted me and asked if I wanted to help him make a moon or something."

"I swear, that director is no good for him," Aunt Trudy declared. "Always adding stuff to his plate."

"I mean, he is the stage manager," Mr. Hardy replied. "It's his job."

"But that doesn't mean Craig has to make it hard for him."

"No, I agree with you there."

"Well," Nancy interjected, "I'm looking forward to seeing the production. If there's one thing I've gathered from Frank, it's that the director's penchant for perfectionism has really made the play very good. And when you're doing something by Beckett, you have to meet a certain standard."

"Nancy's right on," Mrs. Hardy agreed. "I don't think he has to be nasty about it, but from what Frank's said he really is a good director. Just not necessarily a great person." She looked at her watch, then cast a glance over to her husband. "I know Frank said he and Joe were going to be a bit, but this is getting ridiculous. It's been over half an hour since they left, and it's dinner time." It was clear to Nancy that the Hardy Boys' mother was starting to border on fury with her sons.

"I can call them if you'd like," Nancy offered. She could tell Aunt Trudy was about to protest, so she hurried along. "They might be more apt to pick up the phone if I were to try calling them, after all, instead of one of their parents or their aunt."

Mr. Hardy cocked his head toward his wife. "What was it they said they were doing?" He nodded in Nancy's direction. "I would think that whatever it was ended up being rather important or time-consuming, if they were to run off without stopping to see Nancy."

"Something about going back to the auditorium," Aunt Trudy snapped.

Oh boy, Nancy thought, the brothers are in for it now. "Let me try giving them a call anyway." Nancy excused herself from the table, hoping her departure wouldn't be taken too poorly by her hosts. She pulled out her phone and tried Frank's number. No response.

"C'mon, Joe," she mumbled as she called the younger brother. "Pick up, pick up, pick up." Unfortunately, as with Frank, Nancy got nothing.

"Well, at least I tried," she sighed, sliding back into the chair at the end of the table. Nancy looked and saw that Mr. Hardy had left the table in her absence. "Where did Mr. Hardy go?"

"He's on the phone with one of them right now," Mrs. Hardy told the detective. "I'm not sure which, though. He didn't say."

"Oh, they've got it coming when they get home," Aunt Trudy seethed. "To just skip out on dinner when their own friend is arriving, there's nothing more rude than that."

Nancy didn't actually care that the boys weren't currently present. She was too worn down. But it was clearly bugging all the adults, so she figured damage control was necessary.

"I'm sure Frank and Joe have a perfectly good reason for not being here right now," she said, hoping it was true.

"She's right." An answer to her prayers came in the form of Fenton Hardy. "I've got to go downtown and meet them real quick, but I promise I'll bring them home as soon as possible."

"They aren't in jail, are they!?" Aunt Trudy exclaimed sharply.

Mr. Hardy laughed drily. "No, no. They aren't in jail. I'll explain everything once we get home, I promise. For now, don't wait on us to eat." With that, and a quick peck on his wife's cheek, the father of Nancy's friends was out the door.

Both ladies seated at the dining room table with Nancy were clearly stunned by this new turn of events.

"Did Fenton also just leave our guest?" Aunt Trudy said in utter disbelief.

"How very odd," Mrs. Hardy stated, now more confused than frustrated. Nancy had to agree with her; it didn't strike her as weird for Frank and Joe to be out and about against the wishes of their parents, but whatever they were up to was important enough to make their father pursue them. And something that important didn't come along often.

Unless. . . Were they working a case?

Neither Frank nor Joe had mentioned a case to her when she had been in contact with them about visiting. After all, both had told her they were living vicariously through her while she'd been hot on the trail of a criminal. So what was with all the secrecy?

Then Nancy realized it could be a surprise. She knew that, while the boys were close with both their parents and their aunt, the one in which they confided the most was definitely their father.

 _What if they have something planned for me as a welcoming gift but only let Mr. Hardy in on the secret?_

As soon as the thought crossed her mind, Nancy decided to put whatever the male Hardys were up to out of her head.

"So, let's have a lovely ladies dinner," she announced. "Just because we're the only ones here doesn't mean we can't enjoy ourselves."

Aunt Trudy still looked about ready to blow a fuse, but Nancy noticed Mrs. Hardy's face soften a bit. "You're right," she said. "Even with the boys all running out to do who-knows-what, we still can provide a good meal and good company."

The three women began talking about all sorts of things while eating dinner, with the topics ranging from cooking to the statuses of Mr. Drew and Hannah Gruen, Nancy's father and housekeeper. Nancy's most recent case was even discussed for a couple minutes, but both hostesses were acute enough to notice that the titian-haired teen was looking for a break from all the detective work, so they moved on.

After about half an hour, all three ladies had finished their meals, and the conversation had come to a bit of a stand-still. Nancy helped clean up the dishes, then retreated to the guest bedroom.

As soon as she walked in, Nancy collapsed on the bed in sheer exhaustion. She was absolutely ready to crash, but there were people who were expecting a call to know she'd arrived safely. Plus she didn't want to fall asleep before the Hardy Boys made their first appearance. Sighing, Nancy dialed the first of three numbers.

"Nancy!" Her father's voice boomed through the speaker. Carson Drew definitely had that intimidating lawyer feel about him, even from Nancy's point of view as his daughter. She always considered it a good thing that he was on her side.

"Hi Dad," she replied. "I wanted to let you know that I got here, and we finished dinner not too long ago."

"Sounds good. Thanks for checking in. How was the plane ride?"

"It was. . . a plane ride," Nancy said, her brain garbling the words in her mind. "Nothing special."

"Well, that sounds like the type of plane ride you needed," her father joked. "You've been going right out straight for a while now, and the break with the Hardys will do you worlds of good."

"Goodness, you're starting to sound like Hannah."

"Yeah, well, that's because Hannah's a smart woman." Both of them laughed. Hannah always made jokes about how she was of a lesser intellect compared to the top-notch lawyer and his famous teenage detective daughter, but she wasn't stupid by any measure despite all her joshing.

"I'm gonna go since there isn't much of anything to report around here," Nancy told her dad. "After all, I've only been around for an hour or two at most."

"Alright, keep me updated on your vacation. Love you."

"I love you too, Dad. Talk to you later. Bye." Nancy hung up, then plugged in the next number, but got a message asking her to leave a message at the tone.

"Hi Bess, it's me," she began after the beep. "I got to the Hardys house safe and sound, I figured you and George would want to know. I'm pretty tired, so I'll probably be getting to bed on the earlier side, but we can talk tomorrow. See ya."

Nancy heard the front door open and shut, so instead of making her third and final phone call, she headed out into the entrance hall, coming face to face with Mr. Hardy and, at last, her two friends.

"Frank! Joe!" Nancy jogged over to both of them in turn, giving each one a big hug. "I've missed you guys."

"Yeah, sorry about being late and missing dinner and all that," Frank said sheepishly. "We got caught up at the auditorium."

"Let it be my pleasure to welcome you to the Heavenly Home of the Hardys," Joe announced with a grandiose bow, drawing a laugh from everyone.

"Well, I told Ryan I would be calling him tonight, but maybe after I do that we could go and grab some dessert," Nancy suggested.

"Mmm, there's a really good ice cream place not even five minutes from here," Joe said excitedly.

Nancy laughed. "Then ice cream it is. Come get me in my room in about half an hour or so."

While the boys headed off to grab dinner, the other teen detective went back to her bedroom and dialed her boyfriend. She and Ryan had been dating for over two years after she and the Hardy Boys solved their case at the boarding school in Maine.

"Hello?"

"Ugh, you don't realize how good it is to hear your voice," Nancy said.

Ryan laughed. "Rough day today?"

"Not really." Nancy sighed. "I'm just tired, that's all. It's been a long past couple of weeks."

"Yeah, you need to definitely take some 'me' time and just relax," Ryan replied. The twinge of concern in his voice didn't go unnoticed. "I take it your trip there was good."

"Yep."

"A woman of few words tonight, huh?" Ryan laughed. "You know what I think?"

Nancy was a bit worried with what her boyfriend might come up with. "What?"

"I think you can't think of anything to talk about because all you usually talk about is whatever case you're working."

"Not true," Nancy huffed, pretending she was insulted. Of course, the laugh that followed her statement belied the fake attitude.

"How has your short stay with the Hardys been thus far?"

"I mean, it's only been a couple hours," Nancy responded, "but pretty good. I've mostly only seen the adults though, Frank and Joe were off doing something or other at the auditorium while the rest of us were eating dinner."

"Sounds a bit like they haven't started out as great hosts. Which is weird, because they've been great whenever I visited." Ryan was also acquainted with the boys, and the college he attended was only a couple hours from Bayport, so he had made a few trips of his own to visit.

"Yeah, it's weird. I don't know what they were up to, but it was certainly something."

Upstairs, Frank and Joe were having a secret talk in Frank's room while chowing down on dinner.

"Do you really think Dad is right on this one?" Joe asked his brother. "I mean, here's the best crime-solving partner we've had as a duo, and we're gonna keep her out of the loop on this whole dead-guy-and-missing-person thing."

"She's here for a well-deserved break from all of that stuff," Frank contended. "Dad mentioned that she wanted a rest from all the detective work she's been up to, and you know that even if it isn't good for her she'll want to get involved in the case."

"This is Nancy Drew we're talking about, right?" Joe questioned. "Because she's a grown woman who can make her own choices. Plus, I don't think she ever gets tired of this detective work. She can go and go and go."

"Even Nancy Drew needs a vacation."

"Touché." Joe flopped over on the bed. "But if the news outlets get wind of this, there'll be no living with her. Finding things out is her job, and I don't think it's really a good idea to try to hide the whole thing."

Frank gritted his teeth. "I don't think there's a really good answer to this one. But I really do think she needs to use this vacation for what it is: a vacation."

"How do you know she won't?"

"The murder, okay, she might let the authorities handle it. But she's got way too big of a sense of justice to not make an attempt to find Henry."

"Where even is he?" Joe's attempt to pull himself up off the bed using the sheets led to him on a heap on the floor. He didn't bother to pick himself up. "With his bike at the auditorium and the small footprints, it seems pretty likely he ended up in that props room for some reason or another and then ran away upon discovering the body." Joe paused for a second before sitting up straight. "Don't kill me for exploring all the possibilities, but do you think he might have killed the random guy?"

Frank shook his head. "You heard what Chief Collig said about the blunt force trauma coming from above. Henry's too short." He continued, "I honestly have no clue who could have a motive for this one. The victim randomly showed up to our rehearsal today, but it was the first time I'd ever seen him. Craig asked me to kick him out."

"And did he comply?"

"Yeah, but he wasn't super happy about it."

Joe shrugged. "Maybe that makes Craig the one suspect we've got right now."

"Maybe."

Out of the blue, Joe's stomach growled. Although the boys had just finished eating while Nancy made a call and their father explained everything to their mother and aunt, Joe was still hungry. "Didn't Nancy ask about going to get ice cream or something?"

"Oh yeah." Frank tapped his temple. "Completely forgot about that. Let's go down and see if she's still up for it."

"The boys clambered down the stairs and around the corner to the guest bedroom, but stopped short before they made it into the room at the sound of snoring.

"Um, I think she might be asleep," Joe said, his voice low.

Frank peeked into the room. The titian-haired detective was fast asleep, her phone laying beside her hand. "I guess ice cream will wait until tomorrow."

Like I said, a lot more talking and a lot less action than usual, but still an intriguing chapter for me to write (and hopefully for you to read). What do you think is up with the mysterious man from the theater being murdered? And is the strategy of Mr. Hardy in keeping Nancy out of the loop a good one? You're welcome for adding more questions to your plate than I answered. ;)


	3. Chapter Three: The Preliminary Plan

**DISCLAIMER:** None of the Hardy Family, Drew Household, or any other characters featured in the Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew books belong to me. All other suspects and characters are of my own creation.

 **Author's Note** : Another chapter! Lucky for you, some of your questions will be answered in this chapter (but only a couple). It's a little bit of a slow start for the case, but I promise the pace will begin picking up in the very near future. Ta-da! Chapter Three!

The following day, Frank got a call while eating breakfast with his father and aunt. His mother had a morning yoga class at the gym, and Joe and Nancy were dead to the world in their beds.

"Hello?"

"Hi, is this Frank Hardy?"

The dark-haired teen grinned. It had become customary for Chief Ezra Collig to ask for Frank whenever he called, even though he knew the phone number of both brothers. "Yes, this is. Any news, Chief?"

The older man sighed. "Yeah, and it isn't good. Last night I had an officer take a statement from Valerie Burke, the missing person's mother. Shortly thereafter, when news spread about Henry's disappearance, we got two more calls from distraught parents. Turns out, two of his friends, a Clifton Rey and a Maverick Lurie, left their houses to go hang out at the park and never came back. I wanted to get in touch with you and offer you and Joe positions as consultants on this case. It would allow you to have access to anything that we find."

Frank's heart dropped. He hadn't had a good night's sleep since he had been tossing and turning, Henry's face floating across his mind's eye. Now, two more boys were missing as well. "Absolutely, Chief. Joe and I would be happy to help out."

Chief Collig sighed again, though this time Frank recognized it as a sigh of relief. "Perfect. We'd like your help specifically in a bit, though you shouldn't have to go too out of your way for it."

"Oh?"

"Because the murder took place at the auditorium, and it's the last place one of the missing kids was seen, we'd like to interview the cast and crew of _Waiting for Godot_."

Frank swallowed hard. "I see. Does Craig know you're doing this? Craig Marston, I mean. The director. He can get a bit. . . temperamental at times, especially if you get in the way of his work on the show."

"We got to listen to that temperament this morning when we contacted him to let him know."

"Are you going to need to interview me again?" Frank and Joe had both submitted statements to the police the previous night after discovering the body.

"No, your statement from yesterday is sufficient for our needs. Plus we called your mother last night shortly after you left, and she confirmed the alibis you two gave us. You're in the clear to work this case, and with your connection to the other cast members, you in particular are going to be pretty valuable."

The chief's meaning dawned on Frank. "You want me to be there when they each get interviewed so they might be more willing to talk."

"Yeah, that. Plus you're observant. Any nervous ticks they've got going, or indications that they're lying, will be easier for you to pick up since you know them all."

Frank finished his cereal and cleared his place. "So are you going to just be taking their statements relating to the two cases or are you planning to grill them?"

"Statements to start with, but if they have any good information then we'll extend it. All these people are merely persons of interest at this stage," the chief explained. "We don't have any suspects for either crime right now."

Frank frowned. "Anything come back when you ran the murder victim's prints?"

"Just a name," Chief Collig replied. "Isaac Valdez. He's in the system because he got booked for vandalism at age 19, but that was nearly two decades ago. Nothing since then, at least of the criminal nature. We aren't sure if he lives around here or was visiting."

"That's true," Frank said. "I automatically assumed he just wandered in, but if he came to town for some reason, then finding that reason might put us on the right track."

The chief laughed, his sorrow creeping into the hearty sound. "Frank, we know precisely nothing about this guy other than a name. Feel free to look into it, but our police force isn't big enough to manage both the everyday stuff as well as two big cases. Our focus right now is on finding the kids."

"You don't think the two are related?" Frank asked. "I mean, I'm not totally sure about the other two boys, but a murder victim is found in a closet without any sort of I.D. with kid-sized footprints leading away and out of the auditorium? Plus Henry's bike nearby? I'm scared he might've walked in on the murderer and then was kidnapped. Who knows what the person might do."

"You might be right," Chief Collig responded, "but it's hard to know at this stage. Hopefully our interviews will bring some more light to both of these cases."

Frank nodded. "Alright, then I'll see you in about half an hour at rehearsal."

"Yep, see you there."

After Frank hung up he bolted up the stairs to his room, silently taking the steps two at a time. He glided into his desk chair and opened the laptop which sat in front of him.

"So, who are you, Mr. Isaac Valdez?" Frank did a preliminary search, but he got too many search results.

"This won't do," he muttered. He added Bayport to the end of his search term, but still turned up nothing of interest. Despite fiddling with the settings, Frank still couldn't get anything that gave any indication of the murder victim. Whoever Isaac Valdez was, he was a ghost online.

The teen headed back downstairs and into his father's study.

"Hi, Frank. Don't you have to be leaving for the interviews about now?" Mr. Hardy asked.

Frank smiled. "So you were listening in earlier."

"Couldn't help it. Old habits die hard."

"Yeah, that's where I'm going now," Frank explained, "but I want to make sure Joe will have access to a car today." The two brothers shared a car, since Joe flew to and from his college in Michigan.

"Well, I know I've got a few errands to run once your mother gets back, but I presume that after that Joe can use the SUV. Why do you ask?"

"I figured he and Nancy would probably want to go out and do something while I'm busy, plus I have a job for him."

Mr. Hardy frowned. "Does it have to do with the case?"

"Yes." Frank closed the door and lowered his voice. "Do you really think this whole keeping Nancy out of the loop idea is a good one? I know for her sake it might be but she's going to blow up at all of us for keeping it a secret, I just know it. Plus, let's think about Henry and those two other missing kids. And the murder victim. All four of them deserve us throwing everything we have at solving this mystery."

Mr. Hardy reclined in his chair, setting his feet up on the desk and his hands behind his head. "I see your point. I still think Nancy really needs a break, she's been going nonstop for quite a while now. But these aren't my cases. I'm not the one Chief Collig called in as a consultant, that's you and Joe."

Frank thought the whole situation over. He really didn't want to add anything to her plate, but he just couldn't stop thinking about Henry. He'd spent countless hours with that kid and the rest of the cast, and he always brightened the mood with his silly singing and dancing, his grin that held just a twinge of craziness, and his constant funny faces. That kid, a kid Frank had gotten to know so well, was missing. Probably kidnapped, and hopefully not. . . Frank stopped his brain right there. The thought of it all seemed to chip away at a piece of his heart.

"I've gotta go," he said, turning on his heel and reopening the door. "I'm gonna write out a note for Joe with some instructions, just let him know whenever you're done with the car."

When Joe woke up and clomped down the stairs, he discovered a letter sitting on his placemat, about half a page long. Sitting next to it, and really chomping on her eggs, was Nancy.

"Good morning," Joe greeted her. She looked up, and her glare stopped Joe in his tracks.

"Good morning?" Nancy asked indignantly. "There's a murder investigation, three kids are missing, and all of this was kept a secret from me. And you think it's a good morning?"

Joe's heart sunk. How had she figured out what was up? He knew that she would eventually, but it hadn't even been 24 hours since Frank got the call from Mrs. Burke and found the body.

"Listen, Nancy. . ."

"It's fine," she said. By the tone of her voice, Joe knew it wasn't actually fine. Girls were confusing that way. "Just get me up-to-date on the whole situation, because this letter doesn't cover everything from what I've gathered."

Joe had forgotten about the note after Nancy had caught his eye, but quickly snatched it off the table. The first thing that he noticed was that the letter was addressed to both him and Nancy. Frank must've decided that keeping it a secret wouldn't work. Joe didn't necessarily find fault in the decision, either.

His eyebrows drew together as he read. "So now there are two other kids missing, too? That's new."

"Who is Henry?" Nancy pointed to a particular line in the note. "Frank mentions him here."

"He's the kid actor in _Waiting for Godot_ with Frank," Joe explained. "We went to the auditorium last night when Frank got a call from Henry's mother asking if he'd seen Henry since practice had ended and he hadn't gone home. This led Frank and I to his bike which was still at the theater, and when we searched the place Frank stumbled onto a body."

"The body of a person nobody knows anything about." Nancy sat back in her chair. "The letter says that there's no online presence of this guy and his record is almost clean, with only one charge many years ago."

"That's news to me," Joe informed her. "Frank must've begun his research on this guy while we were asleep. There are days that I wish that I could get up as early as him and still be functional."

"Really?"

"No." Joe smirked, then continued reading. "So he's at interviews with the cast right now. Looks like he wants me to stop by the police station to get any leads from the M.E. that might help us." He checked his watch. "I'm probably gonna go in a little while, but after –"

"You mean _we_ are gonna go," Nancy corrected. Joe gave her a quick glance and shriveled beneath her evil eye. Man, was she good at that. "Don't think I'm not helping on this case."

"But this is your vacation," Joe protested. "You're supposed to be taking a nice relaxing break from all this detective work."

"Well, hate to break it to you, but there are three missing kids and a dead body," Nancy argued, "and that means that if I just sit around and do nothing, I'm going to be stressed out of my mind. So if you want a less stressed Nancy, then you'll have to let me help on the case."

She had a point.

"Fine, I'll talk to the chief at some point to see if he'll officially add you as a consultant for the case. For now though, we have a job to do."

"I know Frank says he wants us to go down to the police station, but I think I have a better idea," Nancy said. "Why don't we go talk to the parents of the two other boys who disappeared? I'm sure they've already been interviewed, but if this dead guy is really as nonexistent as Frank claims, then it would be better to follow the trail of the kids right now."

Sometimes Joe envied having Nancy's brain. "Sounds like a good idea to me. Let me get you cleared with Chief Collig and get those addresses, and we'll be on our way." Ten minutes and one phone call later, Joe and Nancy were grabbing the keys from Mr. Hardy's hands as he walked in the door and heading to their first stop.

"So who are we interviewing first?" Nancy asked as Joe drove.

"James and Hannah Rey," Joe answered. "They're the parents of Clifton Rey, and from the looks of that address, they only live a few minutes away from us. The other parents, the Luries, that'll be a bit of a drive. . . Farmers Ave is on the other side of Bayport, about 15 or 20 minutes from the Reys. And right in the middle of our trip," Joe grinned, "is a really good ice cream stand."

Nancy laughed, temporarily forgetting that she was supposed to be mad at Joe. "The same ice cream stand you mentioned last night?"

"Nope." Joe shook his head. "Different one. There are three amazing places to get ice cream in Bayport, and don't worry, I'll see to it personally that you get to eat at all of them before you leave."

Joe pulled into the Rey's gravel driveway, and Nancy began sizing the house up. It was a quaint one-story home, with a one-car garage that wasn't attached. The white paint seemed almost fresh, and the green shutters outlining the windows added a nice bit of color.

"Seems like a nice house," Joe observed. "I'm hoping this car in the driveway means at least one of the parents is home."

Nancy nodded. "Let's go find out." She led the way up the small brick pathway to the front door and rang the doorbell. It was answered by a tall, gaunt man, with quite the pointed chin.

"What do you want?" he snapped at the detectives.

"Mr. Rey? My name is Nancy Drew, and this is Joe Hardy," Nancy explained. "We're working with the police on your son's missing persons case, along with two others."

Mr. Rey's frown let up a little. "I've heard of you," he said, turning his attention past Nancy to the boy behind her. "You and your brother are the finest private detectives around. Please, come in."

"Thank you," Joe responded, leading the way past Nancy. "Both Frank and I are working the case with Nancy here. I assure you, she is at _least_ of equal caliber to my brother and I."

"Glad to hear it," their host grunted as he showed them into the kitchen. There sat a rather plump middle-aged woman, her black hair wound tightly into a bun atop her head. "Please, let me introduce you to my wife, Hannah. Hannah, these two detectives are helping the police find our son."

It was clear to Nancy that Hannah Rey had been crying with how puffy and red her eyes were. "Hi, Mrs. Rey. We promise not to take too much of your time, but we want to get some information that might help us find your son."

"Of course," Hannah Rey responded. "I just need Clifton back with us."

"So, when did either of you realize that Clifton was missing?" Joe asked.

"It's not unusual for him to disappear for hours at a time during the day," Mr. Rey explained, "but he always comes home by nightfall. When it turned about eight last night, we began to get worried, especially since he missed dinner."

"I called up Trisha to see if maybe Clifton had eaten there," Mrs. Rey sniffed, "but she said she hadn't seen him at all. She said that Maverick was probably with him, and that maybe they were over at Henry's. So then I called Valerie, and she was in hysterics." Hannah Rey began to sob again, so Nancy rubbed her shoulder to comfort her.

"What time did Clifton leave yesterday?" Joe asked.

"I'm not sure," Mr. Rey admitted. "I was at work until close to six."

Mrs. Rey composed herself enough, using a tissue from the nearly empty box on the table to dab at her eyes. "He left at two or thereabouts, said he was going down to the park."

Joe raised his eyebrows. "And which park was it? Did he say? Is there a usual park he goes to?"

Mrs. Rey nodded. "Franklin Park. It's close to Maverick's house and since both Clifton and Henry have bikes but Maverick doesn't, it's the most easily accessible to all three. They loved to kick around the soccer ball or throw around a football." The memories brought a fresh set of tears to Mrs. Rey's eyes, and she pulled out another tissue.

"One last question for the two of you," Nancy said gently, still rubbing Mrs. Rey's shoulder. "Was Clifton acting strange at all when he left here? Had he talked at all about seeing Henry yesterday, or anything relating to Henry?"

Mrs. Rey continued to sob, so Mr. Rey took the question. "He never really mentions who he's going to be with, just where he's going. We don't need too much information, so long as he has his phone on him so we can text or call him if the need arises."

Nancy nodded. "Well, thank you for your time." She grabbed a business card out of her purse and handed it to Mr. Rey. "If you think of anything

The two detectives were shown the door by Mr. Rey, and headed back to the car.

"Business cards?" Joe asked. "Since when do you have business cards?"

Nancy rolled her eyes. "They're a good idea, and you know it."

Joe held up his hands in a fake surrender. "I never said they weren't. Anyway, after we talk with the Luries, we can stop by Franklin Park. I know the place; it's just up the street a bit from their house."

"Good idea," Nancy replied. "I think we should keep an eye out for Clifton's phone. Whether it's at the park or not, it will hopefully give us some insight into how the kidnapping went down."

"Mm, I like your thought process," Joe said. "If it isn't at the park, there's a chance he still had it on him when he was taken. Then the cell towers might come in handy. We make such a good team."

"I'm still mad at you," Nancy told him. She was just about ready to forgive the brothers, but it still irked her a bit that they would try to hide something from her like that.

"I know. Wanna go get ice cream?" Joe cracked a grin, and Nancy couldn't help but match it. Maybe she was ready to forgive them.

And so the detective work begins. . . So now there's more than just a missing kid, there's THREE of them. Plus, ya know, that dead body. Nancy and the Hardy Boys have their work cut out for them, that's for sure. And it only gets crazier from here on out.


	4. Chapter Four: The Disquieting Discovery

**DISCLAIMER:** None of the Hardy Family, Drew Household, or any other characters featured in the Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew books belong to me. All other suspects and characters are of my own creation.

 **Author's Note** : Phew! I know life is about to get really busy for me, but that's why I started posting these only after I got to this point (plus I've been on a creative roll. . . it's amazing how good the brain is at writing well past midnight). The investigation continues in Chapter Four.

Frank slumped over in his chair. He and Officer Briggs had been interviewing the cast members for close to four hours.

"Well, I wish we could've gotten more out of those than we did," the officer sighed. "I know they're just preliminary statements, but there's nothing useful that's come from any of them."

"Not completely true," Frank contended. "Since I left practice before everyone else, one thing that was up in the air was who saw Henry last, and where. Now we know that he definitely left the premises. That's something."

"Yeah, I guess," Officer Briggs admitted. "Well, I'm gonna run these back to Chief Collig at the station. What are you gonna do?"

Frank pondered his options for a moment. So long as Joe and Nancy followed his instructions to go see the M.E. there wasn't any research to be done. "I think I'll just poke around here for a little bit and see if I can't find any extra leads."

"Okay." The officer packed up his laptop and grabbed his bag. "Remember that the props room is still an active crime scene, though. I wouldn't go 'poking around' in there if I were you. And I'm not sure you'll find much else in this place." With that, Officer Briggs left for the station.

Frank exited the small office and made his way into the auditorium itself. The cast had been able to have a rather choppy practice with only one person being interviewed at a time, but now the entire room was eerily quiet. The silence only seemed to be amplified by the vaulted ceiling and rounded walls.

"Let's start at the props room," the detective instructed himself. He hopped onto the stage and worked his way behind the curtain and to the corner roped off with police tape. No one was around, but Frank knew that Chief Collig always had cameras placed at active crime scenes if the crime techs weren't protecting the place.

"Now, suppose Henry ended up walking in on Valdez getting murdered," he mused. "Then his next instinct would be to run. Which he does." Frank followed the footprints around to the side exit, but then backed himself up.

"Wait a minute." He bent down to get close to the prints. "These are full footprints. And close together." It dawned on Frank what was bothering him about them. "He wasn't running. He wouldn't have been so flat-footed, and the steps would be more than about a foot apart. But why would he be walking away from the scene of the crime instead of running?"

Only one thought came to Frank's mind, but he refused to believe it. Henry couldn't have been involved in the murder, right? The police had already said the trauma came from an angle from which Henry couldn't have come.

"Huh." Inspiration hit Frank. "What if he was trying to preserve the scene? If he stumbled onto the body after the murder took place, he could have then left as carefully as possible so that the police wouldn't have to deal with a contaminated crime scene." The detective liked that theory a lot better than Henry being involved.

From somewhere in the theater, Frank heard a loud clang. "Hello?" he called. "Who's there?" No response.

"That's weird," he muttered. The detective pulled aside the curtain just in time to see a door at the far end of the auditorium swing shut.

"Hey! Who's there!?" Frank shouted again, leaping off the stage and booking it to the door. He slammed it open, but there was no one in sight in either direction.

"Dammit." Frank ran a few steps in either direction but couldn't find a soul in the building. Whoever had been in the auditorium with him was gone.

The buzz of his phone made Frank jump several inches off the ground. He pulled it out and picked up. "Jeez, Joe, you nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"Sorry I think?" His brother sounded confused.

"Everyone left the theater, police included, but I just watched someone run out of the auditorium," Frank explained. "I lost whoever it was, though."

"Well that sucks. Did you get a good look at him? Or her?"

Frank sighed. "I heard the door open quite loudly, like someone plowed into it, but it was just about closed when I got out from backstage. They must've been going full tilt though, those doors aren't the lightest things in the world."

"Weird," Joe replied. "Nancy and I have some interesting info for you."

The idea of a fresh lead raised Frank's spirits. "Do you? What did you find out from the M.E.? And how mad is she?"  
Joe lowered his voice. "Well, she's less mad now. Thanks for giving me the heads up that you were gonna tell her. Not."

"Hey, you were asleep," Frank protested. "It just seemed like the right thing to do."

"I don't disagree with you, I just would've liked to know ahead of time that Nancy would be playing the role of Aunt Trudy this morning."

Frank grinned at his brother's comparison. "Was it that bad?"

"Yeah. It was. Talk about a scary Nancy. Ow! What was that for?" Frank heard a brief conversation, then Nancy's voice filled the phone.

"Hi Frank," she said. "Your brother's being an idiot."

"Yeah, well, that's Joe for you." Frank re-entered the auditorium and took a seat on the lip of the stage. "So what did you guys find out?"

"We didn't actually go to the M.E.'s office like you suggested," Nancy confessed. "We figured that if you were interviewing all the cast and crew of _Waiting for Godot_ , we would hit the other end and interview the parents of the other two missing boys, Clifton and Maverick."

Frank nodded. "Alright. Get to the good part."

Nancy clucked her tongue. "So impatient. Anyway, we didn't get much out of Clifton's parents other than the park he said he was gonna hang out at. Franklin Park, to be specific. He and Henry and Maverick usually go there to play sports because it's near Maverick's house and he's the only one in the group who doesn't have a bike."

Frank groaned. "You're making this as long of a story as you can because I told you to get to the good part, aren't you."

"Don't think you aren't getting some heat from me simply because you were gone this morning when you dropped the bomb about the missing kids and the dead man," Nancy retorted. Frank could hear his brother cackling off in the distance. "But Mr. and Mrs. Lurie keep much closer tabs on their son, and it paid off big time. The reason that Mrs. Lurie told Mrs. Rey that she thought the boys were at Henry's house for dinner is because her son has to check in with her and tell her where he's going before he goes someplace, and Maverick said the three boys were going over to Henry's house for dinner. Just like Mrs. Lurie told Mrs. Rey."

Frank took a moment to process Nancy's tip. "Wait a second, the _three_ boys?"

"Yep. Henry was with them when they left the park."

"But that doesn't make sense," Frank contended. "Henry's bike is here, at the auditorium."

Nancy sighed. "Goodness, for a detective you really aren't getting this. It seems like Henry stopped back at the auditorium after the three boys left the park, and before they went to his house for dinner."

"And if Henry stopped here, the other two were probably here as well," Frank said, the pieces finally clicking together. "Well, since I'm here, I can take a good look around and see if there's anything that may indicate why the trio came back to the theater as a pit stop on their way to dinner."

"Sounds good. We're about to go explore Franklin Park, but after what Mrs. Lurie told us, it seems like you've got a better place to find some evidence," Nancy replied. "Here, let me hand you back over to your brother."

Joe's voice came back on the line. "Call us if you need anything, alright?"

"Will do," Frank answered. "Just know that at some point you'll be taking that trip to the M.E.'s office to dig up any leads she might have."

"Yeah yeah, you're so boring, we'll leave that to you. Talk to you later. Bye." Joe hung up without giving Frank the chance to respond. The blond brother turned to his partner in crime. "Now, let's go take a look around Franklin Park."

"Let's," Nancy agreed. Joe turned on the car and pulled out of the driveway. Less than two minutes later, he parked in the lot right next to their destination.

"So, if I were a couple of sports-loving boys, where in the park would I want to be?" Nancy wondered.

"Um, you're sitting in a car with someone who used to frequent this park as a sports-loving boy," Joe reminded her. "I've got you covered." He led the way across the small playground to a large field on the other side. In the distance, surrounded by a walkway leading into the woods, a fountain gave off a continuous spurt of water.

"This open field has traditionally been the go-to place in town for anyone wanting to play football, or Frisbee, or really any outdoor sport," Joe explained to Nancy. "It's especially popular with kids since the elementary school is only right around the corner."

It definitely looks like a good place to come and play games," Nancy acknowledged. "It's even got soccer nets, which is nice."

Joe nodded. "Yep. So, what exactly is our goal here? We suspect that our missing people all left here of their own free will, so it's not like we'll find anything useful here."

"Not completely true," Nancy argued. "I agree that they left on their own, but we still don't know why Henry showed up here in the first place."

"Easy," Joe responded. "He came to hang out with his two best friends after a long day at rehearsal."

"Okay, true," Nancy conceded, "but then, why would he go back to the theater? Is it close enough that he could've just walked from there to here?"

Joe gave it some thought, then quickly shook his head. "No, that wouldn't make sense. The theater is a good ten minutes away by car, so he wouldn't have left his bike there. He definitely went back. Maybe he forgot something?"

"That's the most likely possibility." Nancy began walking back out of the park, with Joe following.

"Are we leaving so soon?"

Nancy reached the edge of the parking lot and stopped. "Hmm. That's not what I wanted to see."

Joe stood beside her and followed her gaze to the bike rack, which was full of bikes. "It's hard to tell if Clifton's bike is here or not. We should've asked his parents for a description of it." He watched Nancy's face light up. "Oh boy, what is it now?"

"C'mon," she said, tugging him toward the car. Joe grudgingly followed, but stopped before getting in.

"Hey, I don't know how mad you still are at me and Frank," he began, "but if you're gonna work this case, we have to have some communication going on here. When you have an idea, bounce it off me, or Frank, or Dad. I'm here with you right now as a partner in solving this mystery, not as your chauffeur."

Nancy was a bit taken aback by Joe's outburst. She sighed. "Sorry, Joe. I'm just not used to working on cases with other people. Like, you and your brother and your dad share cases so often that it's something that's normal, but I haven't worked a case side-by-side with someone for almost a year now. Ryan is the closest I get to having a partner. I'll work on it." She hopped into the car. "We know that the three boys left the park, and we know that they were bound for Henry's house. What if we follow that route and see if we can find anything suspicious on our way?"

Joe nodded slowly, joining Nancy in the car. "Not a bad idea. We just have to hope that they take the roads there, as opposed to some back way that requires going through the woods and backyards."

Joe plugged in the address that the chief had given him, and soon he and Nancy were on the road to the Burke residence.

Twenty minutes later, the duo pulled into the driveway. "Well, that was a waste of time," Nancy proclaimed. "Nothing noticeable anywhere along the way. I don't know what I was hoping to find."

Joe shrugged. "Hey, you win some, you lose some." He checked his watch. "It's already after 3, and we still haven't had lunch yet." His stomach growled, as if to add to his argument. "How about we go grab a bite to eat downtown and then head home?"

"Sounds good to me. Are you ever not hungry?"

"Did you really just ask a teenage boy if he's ever not hungry?" Joe grinned. "I would think you've hung out with me and Frank and Ryan long enough to know the answer to that is no."

Nancy laughed. "So where do you want to go to eat?"

"Well, we have some options," Joe informed her, "and you're with the right guy if you have a craving for anything. Pizza, or burgers, or Thai, or more ice cream. . . I can get you there."

Nancy rolled her eyes. "Thai food does sound good right about now. Does the place you're thinking of do takeout?"

"Uh-huh."

"Perfect, let's go there. We've been out all day, and it'll be nice to chill out at your place while eating," Nancy said.

The two detectives stopped by at the restaurant, grabbed some food, then went back to Joe's house.

"Look's like Frank isn't home yet," Joe commented as they walked through the door. "The car still isn't here."

"I'm hoping his search of the auditorium went well," Nancy replied. "Or rather, is going well. I suppose he's still there."

As if on cue, Joe felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. His brother was calling him. "It's Frank," he told Nancy, then picked up. "Hello?"

"Hey Joe. I found something rather interesting shoved in a storage closet." Frank lifted the yellow bike he'd discovered out of the small closet and into the open hallway, allowing the stark white lights to illuminate the initials C.R. on the water bottle in the holder. As he began to examine it, Frank lost his grip, sending the bike crashing to the ground. "Whoops."

"Please tell me you didn't just break a super important piece of evidence," Joe groaned. Frank failed to respond for several seconds. "Um, bro? You there?"  
Finally, Frank replied. "Yeah." He looked at the items that had just been scattered from a pouch on the bike. "And I didn't break it. If anything, I found more evidence."

Staring up at him from a Nevada license was the face of Isaac Valdez.

Okay, so maybe that chapter wasn't as crazy as you were thinking it would be, but at least the ending should be making you question everything in your life. Well, maybe not. But I'm sure any questions you thought were answered about this story are up in the air again. Till next Thursday.


	5. Chapter Five: The Angry Actor

**DISCLAIMER:** None of the Hardy Family, Drew Household, or any other characters featured in the Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew books belong to me. All other suspects and characters are of my own creation.

 **Author's Note** : So as I was writing this chapter, I realized that we are now one chapter shy of being halfway through this story! It's flown by for me, but it will only be a couple months from now that this story will be wrapping up. I hope that you've enjoyed it thus far. Here's Chapter Five!

"And you're sure this came out of that pouch?" Joe asked. He and Nancy had joined his brother at the auditorium following Frank's discovery of the murder victim's ID.

"Absolutely," Frank affirmed. "Where else could it have come from? The bike was the only thing in the closet I moved, and the license and stuff didn't appear until after I accidentally dropped the bike."

"It looks like the 'and stuff' part of what you found might be as important as the license," Nancy noted. "These $20s add up to at least a couple hundred dollars."

"So what the hell is one of our missing kids doing with Valdez's license?" Joe asked. "This definitely connects the two cases, just not in a way I expected."

Joe's comment sprung a memory to the forefront of Frank's mind. "You know, I forgot that there was one thing I noticed right before I heard someone in the auditorium," he told Nancy and his brother. "I was looking at Henry's footprints leading away from the crime scene, and I noticed two things: they weren't spaced out that far apart, and he was walking pretty flat-footed."

"Both signs that he was walking away instead of running," Nancy mused. "Can I see these footprints?"

"Yeah, I can show you where they are," Frank said. "Joe, stay here with the bike." He brought the titian-haired girl through the auditorium and up into the backstage area, still roped off with crime scene tape.

"These are the footprints here," he told her, pointing to the marks along the floor. They had already dried into the stage, and Frank knew that if there was anyone to whom Craig would assign the task of cleaning up bloody footprints, it would be his stage manager.

"So, is there something I'm missing here about these footprints?" Nancy asked.

Her question surprised Frank. "No, I don't think so," he replied. "They're kid-sized, and it looks like the person is walking."

"Kid-sized seems right to me," Nancy agreed, "but you're forgetting one thing. That bike seems like some pretty strong evidence to indicate that Clifton was here. Probably Maverick, too. These footprints don't have to belong to Henry."

Frank did a facepalm. "Of course! Joe and I were automatically assuming that the footprints belonged to Henry because he was the only kid we could logically place at the scene."

"And now, we can logically place three kids at the scene," Nancy finished. "And considering that we found the license in with Clifton's stuff, I would say we should be looking for any connection we can between him and our murder victim."

Suddenly, a series of shouts could be heard from elsewhere in the theater. "That sounds like Joe!" Frank exclaimed. He bolted off the stage, Nancy in pursuit, and blew through the doors leading to the lobby. Joe was on the ground, wrestling with someone on top of him.

"Hey!" Frank hauled the attacker off his brother, tossing him on the ground. Then he got a good look at the man's face. "Howard!?"

Howard Monroe stood up, the tall, lanky man brushing his coat off. "I don't appreciate being attacked by your brother. All I wanted was to grab my hat from this storage closet."

"Um, you literally said nothing and bowled into me," Joe retorted. "I was defending myself."

"Howard, why don't you go grab your hat and pretend like this didn't ever happen? I'm sorry that Joe would get up in your face like that, he's a bit rough around the edges," Frank apologized.

"A bit rough? More like very rough," Howard muttered. "Now, excuse me." The man reached into the closet, grabbed his hat, and strutted out. Once he had left, Joe turned to his brother.

"'A bit rough around the edges?' You make it sound like I'm a criminal," he said begrudgingly.

"Who was that guy, anyway?" Nancy asked Frank.

"Howard is playing the role of Vladimir in our production of _Waiting for Godot_ ," Frank explained. "I'll admit, it threw me off to see him act like that. He's one of those theater geeks who sits quietly in the corner until he's given a part to play."

"Well, it's always the quiet ones you have to watch out for," Joe grumbled.

"What exactly happened before we got here?" Nancy asked the younger Hardy.

"So I'm standing here in front of the closet, looking at the bike, minding my own business." Joe then smacked his fist against his palm, making both Nancy and Frank jump. "And then that happened. He came out of nowhere."

"Hmm," Frank said. "That seems like a pretty crazy reaction, especially if someone just wants to get their hat."

"Yeah, a please and thank you would've been nice," Joe replied.

Nancy turned to Frank. "You think he wanted more than just his hat from that closet."

"Well, we've got to examine all possibilities." Frank shrugged. "Howard doesn't seem like the guy to commit a crime, but after what just happened with Joe? Who knows. Plus," he added, "the cast and crew are probably our prime suspects, especially since this bike is _in_ the building itself."

"Wait!" Joe exclaimed. "I've gotta go!" The detective bolted out the front door, leaving his two partners behind.

"What a Joe move," Frank said, "running off in the middle of a conversation like that."

"Oh, I'm gonna give him so much crap when he gets back," Nancy joked. "Earlier he gave me a talking-to about how I shouldn't leave him out of the loop as my partner."

Frank shrugged. "That's the kind of guy Joe is, though. If something's bothering him, he won't let it fester, he'll just put it out there."

About two minutes later, Joe returned, out of breath. "Just wait," he panted, "until you hear – this piece of info."

"Just wait until I call you out for being a hypocrite," Nancy teased.

Joe rolled his eyes. "Whatever. It was time-sensitive." He stood up straight after a few seconds, having caught his breath. "Monroe was wearing a coat, right? Well, he wouldn't have put on a coat just to drive here. Plus, it's pretty mild outside. So I figured he walked here. I chased him down and asked him the most important question of all time!"

He received two blanks stares. "Oh, come on," he groaned, "am I really supposed to work with you two? You're missing the biggest point here!"

"How bout you just tell us and skip your usual dramatic delivery," Frank retorted, tapping his foot impatiently.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're the most impatient person on the face of the earth?" Joe asked. Frank socked him in the arm. "Ow! What is this, Hit Joe Hardy Day?"

"Focus, Joe."

"Alright, alright," he said. "Monroe grabbed his hat from inside the closet, right? A weird place for a hat, but I suppose you put it wherever you can. But my question for him was pretty simple: I wanted to know if he left it here today or yesterday. And he said today."

Frank stopped to process Joe's question for a moment before getting the point. "Nice one, Joe! That means we have one of two scenarios with this bike: either it was placed in the closet after today's rehearsal began, or –"

"Howard Monroe saw the bike in the closet today and didn't say anything!" Nancy wrung her hands together in excitement. "No matter what, we know that someone in the cast and crew must be involved."

"And it seems like Monroe is our number one suspect." Joe puffed out his chest. "You can thank me later. Or now. Either one works."

"I'll take later," Frank replied. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm starving. Let's head home for some lunch."

Nancy and Joe exchanged guilty looks. "Well, we kind of already ate," Joe explained. "We did some more detective work, but then stopped by the Thai place down on West Dixon Ave."

Frank sighed. "I should've known you wouldn't be able to make it that long without eating food. Well, even if you two have eaten, I still need to, and it's not quite dinner time yet."

The trio of detectives took the two cars home, then discussed the case while Frank ate. Soon the minutes stretched into hours, and Mrs. Hardy was calling up the stairs that dinner was ready.

"Well, I'm stuffed," Nancy said a bit later, finally setting her fork down. "That chicken was delicious, Mrs. Hardy."

"Oh, I'm so glad you liked it." The woman was practically beaming. "It's one of the household favorites."

"Absolutely," Joe added through a mouth full of chicken. "If I didn't know her better I'd think she put something in here to make us addicted."

Everyone laughed and continued the dinnertime banter. Nancy looked up at the clock, shocked to see that it was already after nine.

"Boys, would you mind clearing up the dishes and putting them in the dishwasher?" Mrs. Hardy asked. "That includes you, Fenton."

"No problem." Her husband grabbed his plate and Nancy's and made his way into the kitchen and over to the sink, followed closely by his two sons.

"Now Nancy, is there anything we can get you for dessert?" Aunt Trudy asked. "I was going to make a pie today but I wasn't sure what kind of pie you liked."

"Oh, I'm all set," Nancy replied. "Joe and I went out for ice cream earlier, anyway."

"Well, okay," Aunt Trudy conceded. "But do tell me, what kind of pie do you like?"

Nancy shrugged. "I'm really not that picky when it comes to pies. Whatever is easiest on you."

"Aunt Trudy, you _have_ to make your famous apple pie for Nancy," Joe exclaimed from the kitchen. "It would be a crime not to have her try some while she's here."

"Well Joe, it's up to her, not you," Aunt Trudy shot back.

Joe decided to redirect his attack. "Nancy, that apple pie of hers has won Best Pie at the annual Bayport Baking Battle for three years in a row now! Literally all the other bakers are so jealous of her."

The mention of her accolades seemed to soften the boys' aunt. "Well, yes, I have won several awards for my apple pie," she admitted. "What can I say? I just seem to have the magic touch when it comes to apple pies in particular."

"Well, after all this fanfare surrounding it, I think that an apple pie sounds excellent," Nancy told her.

"Perfect! I'll make it tomorrow and we can have it after dinner tomorrow night!" Aunt Trudy's face fell. "Oh, drat! I don't think we have any apples in the house. I'll have to run out to the supermarket tomorrow morning. Laura, Fenton, is there anything else you'd like me to pick up while I'm there?"

While the adults made a grocery list, Nancy and the Hardy Boys, who had finished cleaning up after the meal, went to the living room to play several intense rounds of Uno. Eventually, Frank stood up and stretched his arms out, yawning loudly.

"I think I'm gonna get to bed," he told his two fellow game players. "Unlike some people around here, I actually had to get up at a decent time this morning. Plus, I've got rehearsal again tomorrow, which is going to be crazy stressful."

"Since when do you have play practice on Saturdays?" Joe questioned his older brother.

"The show goes up in less than a week," Frank reminded him. "And from here on out, these rehearsals are going to be super important. While Henry's part doesn't really have that many lines, it's still hard to get someone up to speed in just a few days." He bid Nancy and Joe goodnight, then headed up the stairs.

"You know, Frank might have the right idea," Joe admitted. "Of course, I won't be up as early as him, but I've got to get some beauty sleep."

"And that does what for you, exactly?"

"Hey!" Joe huffed in fake indignation. "Men need to look beautiful, too." He and Nancy said goodnight as well, and retired to their rooms.

Nancy, unlike the boys, wasn't overly tired. Once she made it past eleven or so, she would always get a second wind and be re-energized. It had helped her on many cases before.

Instead of working on the case, though, she decided to let that demon lie for the time being. She pulled out her phone and began texting with Ryan, catching him up on everything he had missed since she had talked to him the previous night.

It was well after midnight when Nancy heard a rattling sound from somewhere in the house. She ignored it at first, but when it continued, she decided to get up and investigate.

"Hello?" she whispered, following the sound. Her first inclination was that perhaps Mr. Hardy was doing something in his study, but when she stepped out of her room, the only light that seemed to be lit on the first floor was the night light in the bathroom, placed there to help Nancy find her way in case she had to go in the middle of the night.

The rattling stopped, so Nancy headed back into her room and closed the door. A split second after she did that, though, she heard a door somewhere else squeak open.

 _Squeak? The only door I've used since I've been here that squeaks is_. . . Nancy realized what the rattling had been. Someone was breaking in through the front door.

The detective pulled out her phone and opened her most recent message from Ryan. Instead of responding, however, she clicked on his picture and began to FaceTime him.

"Hello? What, was texting not good enough for you?" Ryan asked her.

"Listen," Nancy whispered, "I think someone's trying to break into the house right now. I'm gonna go out and surprise them, but I want to make sure I'm in contact with someone just in case."

"In case of what? Nancy, don't go do anything stupid," Ryan pleaded, albeit quietly. "Just start screaming or something to wake everyone up and scare away the intruder."

"But I don't want to do that if there isn't actually someone breaking in," Nancy hissed. "All I'm going off of is some rattling that could've been a person picking a lock and a door squeaking open. And if there _is_ someone there, I need to find out who it is. This must be connected to the new case the Hardys and I began looking into today."

"And what if the person has a gun?" Ryan asked. "Please, be sensible about this."

"I've already made up my mind," Nancy told him. "Being a detective has some occupational hazards, and this is one of them." She steeled herself, then hushed her boyfriend before silently exiting her room.

Nancy listened, but the first floor was completely quiet. With her stomach churning, she began to make her way through each room, listening for any signs that someone was with her. Unfortunately, she couldn't make out any such noises. That is, until the loud bang that came from somewhere near her own room.

 _The garage,_ Nancy realized. _There's someone in the garage. But why would they use the front door to get in? There's a back door in there._ Then, it hit Nancy. She had made the assumption that the squeaking door was the front door, but she had never heard the door in the Hardy's garage open and close. Maybe the squeak had come from inside the garage the whole time. It was right next to her room, so she could've easily heard the sound.

With great gusto, Nancy burst into the garage, flicking on her iPhone flashlight. "Stop! Who's in here!?" The light illuminated a figure dressed all in black who was rustling through some equipment on the far side of the garage. The figure turned and ran for the door, but Nancy was faster. Unfortunately, she wasn't stronger.

The person rammed into Nancy, throwing her against a wall. Dazed, she could only watch as the intruder scrambled out the door. She picked herself up off the ground and ran to the door, but her flashlight wasn't strong enough to light up the entire backyard. Whoever had been in the garage with her was gone.

Whoot whoot! There's a lot for your brain to think about from what you've just read. Don't think about it too much; I tried that and even though I know where the story is going, it still made my brain hurt. Don't worry, though! Seven more chapters will be on the way to answer all the questions you (along with our detectives) may have.


	6. Chapter Six: The Threatening Trespasser

**DISCLAIMER:** None of the Hardy Family, Drew Household, or any other characters featured in the Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew books belong to me. All other suspects and characters are of my own creation.

 **Author's Note** : This mystery is starting to heat up, given that one of our detectives put herself in the path of danger. Who broke in? And what was the whole point? You might find some of those answers here. Let me present you with Chapter Six!

Moments after Nancy stepped back into the garage, she heard footsteps clomping through the house in her direction. Within seconds, both Frank and Joe were in the garage, followed closely by their parents. Aunt Trudy lagged behind.

"What happened!?" Joe blurted.

"Are you okay, Nancy?" Frank asked.

Nancy brushed herself off. "I'm okay. A little shaken up though." She proceeded to explain about the sound of someone breaking and entering, her hunt for them throughout the house, and her discovery of an intruder in the garage.

"Whoever it was, they shoved me when I tried to block the way out," Nancy concluded. "I didn't manage to get a good look at who it was, but they were pretty strong. I'm no pushover. Literally."

"Nancy, that was an incredibly risky move," Mr. Hardy cautioned. "If the intruder had a gun or some other sort of weapon, things could've ended in more than just you getting some bruises or scratches."

"Whoever did this must've had a reason for it," Nancy pointed out, eager to push Mr. Hardy's comment to the back of her mind. She knew he was right, just like Ryan had been right when he had told her off for wanting to execute her plan. The detective looked down at her phone, which had gone to sleep. Apparently her boyfriend had hung up. "I'm wondering if it's related to the case somehow."

"Well, that means you kids found something that made someone nervous," Aunt Trudy spoke up. Everyone turned to her in surprise at her comment. "What? This isn't the first break-in we've had at our house, and as much as I hope and pray, I doubt it'll be the last."

"I'll be honest," Joe admitted, "I don't really feel like we've made all that much progress on either case so far."

"I'd say we only have one case, now that the license with the bike connects the missing boys to Valdez," Frank countered. "Plus, the lack of progress might actually be good for us. You're right, we haven't found a lot of evidence. And yet, someone was worried enough about what we _did_ find that they were willing to risk breaking and entering. With a short list of evidence, we won't have to work hard to figure out what they were after."

"Wait, did you just say a bike?" Mr. Hardy asked. "That's a reasonable object to keep in the garage instead of in the house. Maybe they wanted whatever bike you found. I hope you didn't store it in here."

Frank shook his head. "Nah, our garage is so cluttered, and I wanted to keep it separate. It's still locked up in the trunk. But good thinking; the bike was probably the target."

"Well, feel free to keep talking about this, but I'm heading back to bed," Mrs. Hardy said. "I've got one of my accounting clients coming by the house at 8 tomorrow morning, so I've got to be up on the earlier side." She gave Nancy a strong hug before departing from the group.

Aunt Trudy led everyone else into the kitchen. "Is there anything I can get you to calm your nerves, Nancy? Tea, perhaps?"

"I'll just have some water, thanks," Nancy replied. She still had her phone in hand, and as she stared at it, she realized that no one had called the police in the chaos of the break-in.

"Let me call this in to the police," she said, dialing the emergency number. She sat herself in the dining room and spent the next few minutes speaking with the operator and filling him in on the emergency and what had transpired, and was promised that the Bayport police would be dispatching a vehicle.

"They should be here in the next few minutes," Nancy announced after hanging up. Aunt Trudy had gone off to bed while she'd been on the phone, but Frank, Joe, and Mr. Hardy had joined her in the dining room. "Frank, you really should get to bed. You have to be up on the earlier side tomorrow. Or today, I guess."

"She's right, Frank," Mr. Hardy told his son. "You'd best be getting some sleep. It looks like your case is only just heating up, and you need to be at 100% to balance both _Waiting for Godot_ and the detective work."

Frank looked like he was about to protest, but eventually sighed. "You're right. I guess there's nothing more to do here." He gave Nancy, his brother, and his father quick hugs before going to bed for the second time that night.

Nancy was scrolling through her phone in silence while Joe and Mr. Hardy discussed the case when Ryan texted her. His message was simple: _Call me._

"Oh boy, this isn't gonna go well," she muttered before picking up. "Hello?"

"Nancy, put Frank or Joe on the phone," Ryan instructed. "I tried calling both of them on their cells but they didn't pick up."

The detective was caught off guard. "No 'how are you' or 'I'm glad you're okay?'"

"I already knew you were okay, I watched the person escape from you without doing more than shove you," Ryan replied shortly. "Now put one of the boys on the phone."

Nancy was a bit incredulous, but did as he asked, handing her phone to Joe. "It's Ryan. Apparently he wants to talk to you but not me."

Joe gave Nancy his best I'll-try-not-to-get-in-the-middle-of-your-drama look before taking the phone. "Hey, Ryan. How are you? I mean, how are you besides probably mad at Nancy for her poor decision making skills?" He listened for about a minute or two, nodding at various points. "I see. Well, feel free to send it to Nancy whenever you finish, we're working the case together anyway." Another pause. "Alright, I'll catch up with you again at some point. Bye." He hung up and turned to Nancy.

"So obviously Ryan is mad at you," he started.

"Yeah, I got that, but he didn't need to be so rude about it," Nancy grumbled. "I can handle myself just fine."

Joe shook his head. "Nobody said you can't handle yourself, but part of what makes you a good detective is your effective use of those super-powered brain cells of yours. Apparently those weren't really functioning tonight. Ryan was worried for your safety, because the intruder might have been armed, and you had no way of knowing."

Nancy thought back on Ryan's traumatic experience with a gun at Harrison Boarding School and shrugged. "I guess. I know he's paranoid about those sorts of things."

"Now, because you were apparently on FaceTime with him when you went into the garage, we have some pretty good evidence." Joe tapped Nancy's phone. "Even if you weren't thinking everything through, Ryan was, and he began recording his screen. He's going to get a buddy at his college to break down the footage of when you ran into the garage with the flashlight to see if he can isolate a picture of the intruder."

"That's a good idea," Nancy agreed. "Hopefully it'll tell us who's so interested in that bike."

"I think I might already have an idea of who it was," Joe remarked just as blue and white flashes filled the window.

"Looks like the police are here," Mr. Hardy commented. "Hold that thought, Joe." The three people in the house who were still awake went out to meet with the officer. About an hour later, after all three had been given statements and the crime scene had been examined, they bid the policeman farewell and collapsed back at the dining room table.

"I don't know about you two, but I'm exhausted," Mr. Hardy said with a yawn. "I'm going back to bed, and I suggest the two of you do the same if you want to get a good night's sleep."

Nancy and Joe smiled and bid him goodnight, leaving just the two teen detectives sitting in the dining room.

"You aren't going back to sleep yet, are you?" Joe asked. Nancy shook her head.

"I'm not gonna lie, I'm still a bit shaken up with that whole thing," Nancy admitted. "I should've listened to Ryan. Though I guess hindsight is 20-20, right?"

Joe nodded. "I'm glad you realized that." He paused. "I have to ask, just given how the past day or so has played out. You seemed so hyper-focused during the day, but clearly some of that brain power just wasn't working tonight. Are you doing okay health-wise? Stress-wise?"

"Yeah, definitely," Nancy responded. "It's just. . . I don't know. I think since I've been working without much break in between cases I've started to lose my edge sometimes. Like today, my brain was firing on all cylinders, but apparently that wasn't the case tonight."

"Well, it sounds to me like you should be taking it easy." Joe stood up and offered Nancy a hand so that she could pull herself up. "That starts with getting good sleep." The two friends hugged, and Nancy went to her bedroom. She curled up in bed, though sleep did not come easily. After an hour of tossing and turning, Nancy finally drifted off.

Several hours later, Frank was grabbing a muffin and on his way out the door to rehearsal. Upon his arrival, he was greeted by his director, who was foaming at the mouth.

"What happened to being here at 7:30!?" he asked, dotting Frank's face with flecks of spit.

"Sorry, I had to take a detour because of the construction work they're starting this morning," Frank explained. "Plus, it's literally 7:34, I'm not really that late."

"Well, every minute counts right now," Craig snarled. "I've got enough to worry about with getting the new kid up to speed whenever he shows up to rehearsal, I don't need to be babysitting you."

Frank clenched his jaw, preventing himself from making a nasty comment or two. As his boss stalked away, he couldn't help but think that perhaps Craig Marston's lack of sympathy regarding the kidnapping and murder that took place in the theater was a bit on the shady side. Could there be any connection between him and the murder victim? After all, he was already connected to the kids through Henry.

The detective's train of thought was broken by someone calling his name from the back of the auditorium. He squinted and hid his face from the stage lights Craig had just turned on in order to see Nigel Hughes and Leila Thibodeau, who played the roles of Estragon and Pozzo, respectively.

"Will you be with us for our rehearsal today?" Leila called. "It was a shame not to have you around yesterday. Craig was running around like a madman to get everything done." Leila was perhaps the only member of the cast with whom Craig got along fairly well. Frank had always intended to ask her how she worked her magic, but something else would always come up that would draw his attention away.

"Yep, I'll be here for the whole time," he responded, hopping down off the stage. "And then I've got to go to the store and get supplies to make a fake moon to hang from the rafters."

The actor and actress met Frank next to the stage. "Yeah, we've all got a lot on our plates with everything that's been happening," Nigel said. "And our minds."

"Yeah, no kidding," Frank said. He was about to tell them that he had taken on a consulting job with the police for the case, but decided to hold his tongue. He knew that even though everyone in the cast had become so used to him as Frank the college student who likes working behind the scenes instead of Frank the well-known detective who had a knack for solving mysteries with his brother, the people in the cast and crew would be more likely to keep their lips loose if they didn't know he was investigating.

"So have you heard who our new kid actor is gonna be?" Leila asked excitedly. "It's Nigel's son, George."

"Oh, really? That's cool," Frank told the actor, who blushed.

"I happened to mention it last night when we were eating dinner and he spoke up and said he wanted the part," Nigel replied. "I texted Craig, and boom, my son had the role. He won't be around today because he has a soccer tournament, but starting on Monday he'll be here and working hard."

Frank nodded as the two cast members sauntered away, talking about George. Frank was happy for the kid that he got to be in the show, but he couldn't shake the bitter taste in his mouth from knowing that the only reason Nigel's son had the role was because someone had taken Henry.

How convenient.

"Could he have really done it to get his son the role?" Frank wondered aloud, careful to keep his voice down. "But then, if the missing kids are connected to the murder, he doesn't have any motive for that. At least, no apparent motive." The detective added Nigel Hughes to the bottom of his mental suspect list, and realized that there weren't many suspects at all that he had begun to consider.

"Well, he's one. After that encounter with Joe yesterday, I'd say Howard is another," he mused. "And Craig has a nasty disposition in general. But is that it?" Frank thought hard, but nothing really jumped out to him as a piece of evidence that could add anyone else to the list.

The door at the back of the auditorium opened again, and the remaining two adult cast members entered.

"Hey, Lily. Hey, Howard." Frank waved to them as he began setting up the fake tree in the middle of the stage. "How are you guys today?"

"I mean, aside from the fact that a kid we've all grown to adore is missing!? Fine," Lily said, clearly not fine. It at least made Frank feel a little better inside that he wasn't the only one in the cast and crew who was hit hard by Henry's disappearance.

"But, at the end of the day, the police have their job, and we have ours," Howard replied evenly. Frank looked for any hint of the strange encounter he had had with the actor the previous day, but either Howard didn't want to deal with it or had put it in the past.

"Well, Craig's wandering around here somewhere," Frank told them. He checked his watch. "Everyone's a little early today. Rehearsal doesn't get going for another 15 minutes or so."

"Of course," Howard said, nodding. "The screws are being put to this production in the final stages. I must say, I've worked with theater groups all over the country, but this is a first in terms of the pressure to pull everything together."

"It's also a first in terms of the fact that a freaking child has been abducted, probably by some creep who's keeping him in some rundown location!" Lily took a deep breath. "Sorry. It's just been a little stressful for me, especially with Chrissie and everything." So that was why Lily was so worked up. Frank hadn't necessarily forgotten about the actress' three-year-old daughter, but he didn't make the connection between Lily's relatively new role as a mother and the kidnapping of another child with whom she was close.

Howard and Lily helped Frank finish setting out the scenery on the stage and carried the flimsy table they now had to use for props just behind the curtain.

"It was nice of the police to let us still have access to the props room to get what we need for the play," Howard commented. "Otherwise we'd been even more screwed than we are as things stand."

Frank just nodded, keeping to himself the fact that if he weren't a consultant on the case, he wouldn't have been allowed access to the crime scene at all.

"Okay, everyone! Let's meet out on stage!" Craig's voice boomed. The four remaining cast members and Frank sat on the lip of the stage to listen to Craig's rant about how it was crunch time and how much focus he needed from everybody. Frank just tuned him out until the director yelled, "Places! We'll start with Act Two, Scene One."

Frank hopped backstage. A few minutes into the scene, his phone began to buzz. He checked his script, but didn't see any directions for him within the next page or two, so he pulled out his cell to see who was calling him. He was expecting it to be Nancy or one of his family members, so he was a bit surprised when the caller ID showed up as Valerie Burke.

Frank stepped out a door on the side of the stage into a small hallway to talk in private. "Hello?"

"Frank, it's Valerie." The detective was taken aback by her abruptness. "I've just called the police, but I'm hoping you could come over immediately."

Frank's heart dropped. "Why? What happened? Does it have to do with Henry?"

"I'm not sure, but I think someone just tried to blow up my house."

 **Whoot whoot! We're officially halfway through the story, with lots of questions and very few answers. With the number of crimes ramping up (between the murder, the kidnapping, the break-in, and now a house nearly blowing up), it's pretty clear that whoever is behind all this is causing quite a lot of havoc. 'Til next time.**

 **EDIT 7/26: So upon the completion of this chapter, I wrote in my original closing note (above) how excited I was to be at the halfway point in the story, and how things would only continue to escalate. I am well ahead of this point in the writing of the story, and as I close in on Chapter 12, I'm beginning to realize I may need an extra couple chapters to truly do the story justice without rushing everything to fit it into the final chapters. Because of this, I'm going to extend the original 12-chapter plan to a full 15 chapters, just like my previous story. I leave for college in approximately a month, but I have full confidence I will be able to complete the story before then so I can continue my weekly posting.**


	7. Chapter Seven: The Defective Detonation

**DISCLAIMER:** None of the Hardy Family, Drew Household, or any other characters featured in the Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew books belong to me. All other suspects and characters are of my own creation.

 **Author's Note: So far this mystery has kidnapping, murder, breaking and entering, and now a potential explosion. How do all of the events connect back to each other? Our detectives certainly have a lot on their plates. Voilà: Chapter Seven!**

Joe woke up to his mother shaking him.

"Joe! Wake up," Mrs. Hardy instructed him. "I just got a call from Frank, and he says someone tried to blow up Mrs. Burke's home!"

The boy blinked his eyes wearily and yawned, the information not really processing. "What is it? More importantly, what time is it?"

"A woman has just almost been blown up and that's your response!?" Mrs. Hardy was indignant. "Get yourself up, young man!"

Blown up? That caught Joe's attention. "Sorry, I didn't hear you the first time," he grumbled. "I'm getting up." After his mother left, he rolled out of bed, threw on the first t-shirt and pair of shorts he could find lying around his room, and headed downstairs.

Mrs. Hardy had already prepared some toast with Joe's favorite raspberry jam, fresh from the Bayport Farmer's Market. "Here, eat this on your way over."

"So, I was still sleeping when you first said everything," Joe explained. "Who almost got blown up?"

"Mrs. Burke."

Joe took a moment to connect the name to the person. "Wait, as in, the mother of one of the missing kids? Why would someone want to do such a thing?"

Mrs. Hardy rolled her eyes. "Do you think _I_ have all the answers? Hurry up, I told Frank to tell her that you'd be there in five minutes."

"Um," Joe said, looking at the clock, "are you encouraging your son to speed? Because there's no way to get there in five minutes unless I do."

"And it'll take even more time the longer you stand here arguing with your mother," Mrs. Hardy responded. Touché. On Joe's way out the door, though, he did hear her murmur, "In most cases, no, don't speed. But if there ever was a time that it was okay by me. . ."

Five minutes later, Joe arrived at his destination, or as close as he could get. Fire trucks and police cars surrounded the house, with plenty of uniformed officers and firefighters going into and coming out of the home.

The detective spotted Valerie Burke about 100 meters away, wrapped in a shock blanket and standing a good distance back from the house. "Mrs. Burke!"

The mother turned and appeared to breathe a sigh of relief when she saw Joe jogging toward her and waving. "Thank goodness you're here. It's all just too much for me."

An officer tried to lead Joe away from her, but Joe showed his P.I. credentials. "Chief Collig asked my brother and I to consult on the case of her missing son." The policeman stopped pulling Joe along and let him go back to Mrs. Burke's side.

"So what happened?" Joe asked her. "Frank passed along word that your house was almost blown up. I take it you don't picture this as an accident, given the police presence."

Mrs. Burke sniffed. "No, I know it wasn't an accident. Someone threw a grenade into my house, only it didn't detonate for some reason. I watched it hit the living room floor and instantly went for cover, but it didn't go off."

Joe was shocked. He'd dealt with several types of explosives before in his line of work, but even longtime criminals would struggle to get their hands on a grenade. Whoever they were dealing with was likely a pro. "Well, you can be assured that my brother and I will be looking into this, along with our partner. We _will_ figure out who kidnapped your son and tried to kill you."

Mrs. Burke nodded along slowly before stopping. "Wait, your partner? Is someone other than you and Frank working with the police on this?"

"Yeah," Joe explained, "our friend Nancy. Nancy Drew. Maybe you've heard of her? Frank and I are well-known throughout this region of the country, but I would argue that she's more famous than we are."

"Mm, I've heard of her," Mrs. Burke said. "I didn't realize you boys knew her. I guess it's a small world in the young adult P.I. business, though."

Joe spent a few more minutes talking idly with the woman, using the time to both glean bits of information about the grenade threat as well as to keep her calm.

"Well, if you'll excuse me," Joe said, "I'm going to go see if the police will let me take a look around the window where the grenade entered the house." The detective walked past the yellow crime tape that had just been set up and approached Chief Collig, who was crouched just under the window where Joe was headed.

"Morning, Joe." The chief stood up and greeted Joe with a firm handshake. "This missing persons case keeps getting weirder by the minute."

"Yeah," Joe agreed grimly. "Usually relatives of kidnapping victims receive ransom calls, not grenades through the window."

"Now, if you take a look at the house, you can see that it's pretty open on this front side." Chief Collig pointed to all the windows. "I'm not sure what kind of grenade it was just yet, but a lot of shrapnel could've potentially come flying out of here and put the person who launched it in danger."

"I can see what you mean." Joe took a look around the front yard. "It's also pretty risky to be throwing grenades into houses in plain sight of any cars that might be driving by." The teen began walking toward the side of the house. "The tree in the middle of the yard would really be the only cover for someone." As he came around the corner, Joe saw what he expected in the backyard. "My guess is that once the culprit threw the grenade, they ran around the house this way. It's the only way that they wouldn't necessarily get spotted after the explosion happened because the house is right on the edge of those woods."

"You're right," Chief Collig exclaimed. "Marty!" At his command, one of the officers came hustling over. "I want you to take one other person and go scour the woods. You don't need to go too far in, I doubt our perp is even within 10 miles of this place now. I just want you to look for any trace evidence they might've left behind."

Joe checked his watch, eager to call Frank but knowing that he was already half an hour into rehearsal. "What time did all this happen?"

The chief sighed. "Well, we don't have an exact time, but Mrs. Burke thinks she called it in just a couple minutes after the grenade went through the window. The 911 operator got the call at 7:29 AM.

"Hm," Joe pondered. He knew his brother had to be at the auditorium by 7:30, but the rehearsal itself didn't start until eight.

"What are you thinking about? You've got that deep-thought-process look in your eyes," Chief Collig remarked.

"Nothing right now." Well, that was sort of true. "Just trying to piece together some thoughts in my head. If I come up with anything concrete, though, I'll be sure to let you know." Joe shook the chief's hand. "Thanks for letting me hang out around here."

"No problem," Chief Collig called as Joe rushed to the SUV. Once a quick text was sent to his mother letting her know that it would still be a little while before his return, he drove over to the auditorium.

Upon his arrival, Joe entered the theater, making his way quickly the auditorium, which sat in the center of the building. He opened the door and snuck into the first row of seats he came across. Within a minute or two, he saw his brother coming down off the stage.

"Joe!?" Frank hissed. "What are you doing here? Craig just called me down to come kick out another person walking in on our production!"

"Another one?" Joe managed to figure out what his brother was saying. "Well, don't worry, I'm not gonna go die on you like that other guy you kicked out."

"Seriously, Joe, what are you doing here? I have to get back to work."

Joe rolled his eyes. "I figured you would want an update after I stopped by to see Valerie Burke. Turns out, someone threw a grenade through her window."

Frank stared at his brother. "A grenade? A _grenade_!? Who the hell is this person we're dealing with, who kidnaps some kids and murders a guy one day, then goes around throwing grenades into houses?"

"I think I have a pretty good idea," Joe told him.

"Frank! Hurry up and get him out of here! I need you backstage again," Craig called from the front row.

"Coming! Let me just escort this guy out." Frank grabbed his brother by the arm and pulled him out into the lobby, where they could talk more freely. "Did you find something at the house to make you suspect someone?"

Joe shook his head. "Not really. It was more something last night, something I was going to mention to Dad and Nancy, but then I forgot after the police showed up. We assume that the intruder who broke in was looking for the bike, right? Well, there's only one other person who knew the bike was in our possession."

Frank's mouth set in a thin line. "Howard Monroe."

"Mom texted me back and said that she doesn't need the car until this evening," Joe said, shaking his phone to emphasize his point. "After practice is over, I want to follow Howard Monroe to see if he leads us to the kids."

"Whoa there," Frank cautioned his younger brother. "We don't even know if Howard is guilty. He's been at practice for an hour now at least, so I don't think he was throwing any grenades through windows."

Joe pointed to his watch. "You said practice started at 8 AM on the dot, right? Well, Mrs. Burke called it in right before 7:30. That would give Monroe plenty of time to get here after staging the attack."

"That's a fair point," Frank admitted. "But you're basing all this off a potential connection between him and a bicycle, and the fact that he was free this morning and just might've had the chance to attack somebody in their home."

"Hey, relax," Joe replied, giving Frank a shoulder massage. His dark-haired counterpart flicked his hands off him. "It's just a hunch. Let's think about what happens if I'm wrong: I wasted the better part of my morning. But let's also think about what happens if I'm right: we find the kids, and we can safely arrest Monroe."

Frank sighed. "Touché. But I want you to text me updates whenever you've reached a stopping point. I'll work with Nancy when I get home to see what we can find about Howard." The two brothers then went their separate ways.

Two hours later, Frank was exhausted. He hurried out of rehearsal so that he could get a head start on Howard so when Joe's texts began rolling in, he would already be home. As he slipped into the driver's seat, however, he groaned as he remembered his prior commitment to get the moon finished before the day was done.

"Well, here's to hoping that Howard spends some time socializing before he leaves the theater," Frank mumbled as he pulled out of the parking lot and drove to the crafts store. He made his way deftly through the aisles, grabbing all the cardboard and painting supplies he needed to buy. Within 10 minutes he was back at home, and he was in luck. No texts had come in from Joe yet.

"Frank!" Nancy greeted him at the door, grabbing some of the supplies from his arms before he dropped it all. "How was rehearsal today? And what's all this?"

"If you recall, I asked you for help making a fake moon," Frank grunted as he carried everything up the stairs, Nancy in tow. "Well, this is everything we need to create a moon." He dumped the craft supplies on his bed, and Nancy followed suit. "Oh, good morning, by the way. And boy, do you have a lot of catching up to do on our case."

Nancy nodded. "I presume you're talking about Mrs. Burke's house almost getting blown up. Your mom passed along the message after I got up. I take it she's okay?"

"Yeah, she's shaken up but unhurt. There's been more than that though," Frank added. He began to outline Joe's hunch just as his phone pinged. Joe's first message: _He walks soooooo slow._

"Why are you tailing him then, if he's just walking places?" Frank muttered.

"What did you say?" Nancy asked, leaning toward her friend to hear what he had been mumbling.

Frank shook his head. "Joe is tailing Howard right now, only it sounds like he's walking around, so Joe is having a tough time following or going anywhere interesting. I would much rather have him working on the solid facts in the case rather than pursuing random ideas he comes up with just because he doesn't have a good first impression of someone."

The detective watched as Nancy's eyes lit up. "You know, maybe we could help him out. We're working with a suspect list of the people involved in the show, right? Because you guys are the only ones who have access to the place."

"Not true," Frank corrected. "Only Craig and I have keys." He stopped to think about what he had just said. "But then, how did the bike get in? And Isaac Valdez, for that matter?"

Nancy stared at him. "You're really just thinking of this now?" She began to paint a large portion of the cardboard white. "Did the police note any signs of someone breaking into the building? And do you want this to be a full moon, or more of a crescent shape?"

Frank also grabbed a paintbrush and began to work. "It can be whatever shape makes our lives the easiest. I've been given full creative liberty over it, and it'll just get criticized by the boss anyway."

"Oh no, I will _not_ make a piece of art sloppy enough to be criticized, no matter how temperamental the critic is," Nancy stated boldly.

"Whatever you say. As to your other question, Chief Collig didn't mention any signs of forced entry anywhere."

Nancy grabbed the black paint and started to mix it with some white off to the side to make some gray. "Then Craig is our prime suspect for sure. Maybe we should start looking for any ties between him and Isaac Valdez. At least now we have the state where Valdez lives."

Frank was about to respond, but his phone buzzed with another text from Joe. He grabbed his device to read it: _Check if his address is 119 Bramblewood Ave_

Frank sent a reply: _No, not right now, I'll check on it later. If he doesn't leave there in the next couple of minutes, just come home._

"Anyway, as I was saying. . . I don't actually remember what my train of thought was." The two detectives laughed. A light bulb went off in Frank's head. "Oh! I remember now. Craig is a great starting point, but there also wasn't any damage to the garage door. We never use it, so we know it was locked, but you wouldn't be able to tell that upon inspecting it. Our culprit seems to be a trained criminal with experience, including knowledge of how to pick locks."

Nancy stopped painting and looked at Frank. "Then the question that pops into my mind is if we can really call any of the people in the cast as suspects just because they work in the building where the crimes occurred. The theater could've just been a random location. And the kids may have been in the wrong place at the wrong time. We need to examine Valdez. He's the key to this whole mystery, I'm sure of it."

"I agree about Valdez, but not about the theater," Frank contended. "Valdez was found backstage, so he's connected to the building somehow, and that connection likely binds our murderer to the auditorium as well."

The two teens sat deep in thought until Frank's phone lit up with a third message from Joe: _Uh-oh._

 **I want to take this ending note to thank all of you who have read the story thus far. Seeing that readers take an interest in my writing is what drives me (and likely most other writers) to continue on. Whether your support for my story has been through reviewing, favoriting, following, or simply being one of the viewers of each chapter when they're released, it really means a lot, so thank you.**


	8. Chapter Eight:The Chilling Confrontation

**DISCLAIMER:** None of the Hardy Family, Drew Household, or any other characters featured in the Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew books belong to me. All other suspects and characters are of my own creation.

 **Author's Note** : **It's become clear that whoever is behind the crimes in Bayport can match wits with Nancy, Frank, and Joe, given the limited evidence they've collected after a slew of crimes. If they're going to solve this case, they'd better buckle down and get to work. Here comes Chapter Eight!**

For what seemed like days Joe just sat in the car, playing Angry Birds on his phone while he waited for Howard Monroe to leave the theater. Unlike his brother, he was willing to put weight on hunches as well as facts, if only to attempt to keep an investigation rolling.

When he got bored with the game, he tossed his phone onto the passenger seat. "Come on dude, are you ever going to leave?" Joe wondered if he should text his brother to let him know about the slow start, but figured he would wait until once the actual tailing began.

Within a few minutes, the suspect finally left the building. Joe started up the car, only to watch in surprise as Monroe walked past all the vehicles in the parking lot and started down the sidewalk in the direction opposite where Joe idled.

"Oh, crap," he muttered. "I didn't realize this walking to the auditorium thing happened every day." Regardless of this, the detective pulled out of the parallel parking space he was in and began his pursuit.

"Why did I decide this was a good idea?" Joe asked himself after he sent his first text to Frank while at a stop sign. He hoped that his brother and Nancy would be working the Monroe angle as well. Joe's first impression of Monroe certainly wasn't great, but that wasn't why he thought of him as a suspect. He just seemed. . . shady. It was hard for the teen to put his finger on, but he knew that Monroe bothered him in some way, shape, or form.

Despite almost losing his target twice in the heavy traffic of the inner streets of Bayport, Joe was eventually led to a rickety-looking shack on Bramblewood. It was clear to the detective that if his suspect made a lot of money, he didn't put any of it into exterior decorating. The lawn was dry and barren, the gray paint on the side of the house was peeling, and the driveway looked much more like a field of weeds than a place for a car.

After parking his vehicle on the side of the road a few houses down from the one occupied by the actor, Joe asked his brother for a confirmation of Monroe's address (which was, in typical fact-focused Frank fashion, denied). So, the detective chilled in the car for several minutes, waiting to see if Monroe would leave the house for another destination.

Stakeouts were among the most boring duties of a private detective, Joe had found. The whole sitting for forever in a car just staring at one place and not being able to play games or do anything fun was a killer, particularly when there wasn't anyone around to talk to.

Luckily for Joe, Howard Monroe came back out of the house a few minutes after going in. Unluckily for Joe, he approached the car, and the detective knew he'd been busted when Monroe was mere feet away from the vehicle. _Uh-oh._

"Hi, how are you today, Mr. Monroe?" Joe asked as he rolled down his window. "Fancy seeing you here outside your, uh, house."

"Do you think I didn't notice you?" Monroe hissed. "I could walk down to the police station right now and report you for stalking and harassment."

"Just one question for you: do you own a car?" Monroe stared at the detective, dumbfounded. Joe shrugged. "Well, you seem to walk everywhere, and your driveway doesn't appear to be super nice."

Monroe leaned in close, and Joe was glad he had locked the doors when he saw the suspect walking toward the car. "Let me make something very clear to you, Mr. Hardy. I don't know what you are up to, or if Frank is involved. My best guess given the reputation you have is that you're working with the police on the Valdez case and the kidnapping. It's very sad, the whole thing, but if you continue to pursue people helter skelter like this, you may end up finding yourself like one of the many victims here."

Joe's stomach began doing somersaults. He was tempted to fire back a witty response, but he was getting a very dangerous vibe from the man. "Understood. I'll be on my way then."

The teen rolled up his window and started the car, pulling away from the curb and driving rather quickly down the street. Every time Joe looked in the rearview mirror, he could still see Howard Monroe standing in the middle of the street, watching the car until he turned the corner. Creepy.

Several minutes later, Joe pulled into the driveway. Rather than getting out and going in to talk to Frank and Nancy, however, he took a moment and sat in the car. He had felt queasy when Monroe had been talking to him. His Spidey Sense had been going off, but he didn't know why.

"What did he say or do that bothered me so much?" Joe wondered. He began to walk through the entire encounter. Sure, the man had given him a thinly-veiled threat, but there was something more. Then it clicked.

Joe opened the door and literally jumped out of the car, running into the house. No brother and friend in the kitchen, or the dining room, or the living room. Finally, he bounded up the stairs and found Nancy and Frank in the latter's room, painting some small details on a full moon.

"Howard Monroe is our guy, I know it!" Joe exclaimed.

"Nice to see you too. And I'm so glad you texted me back after you sent 'uh-oh' with no follow-up," Frank muttered, not looking up from his project.

Nancy, on the other hand, stood up and gave Joe a hug. "We were worried after you texted that and then you went silent. We decided to go look for you if you didn't make any contact with us by the time we finished the moon."

"Well, sorry about that, I was driving," Joe said, defending himself. "But that doesn't matter. I know Monroe is involved with this case."

"And how did you come to that conclusion? More hunches and gut feelings?" Frank asked.

Joe groaned. "You know, I actually do detective work, too, you know. Just because I take the facts we have to come up with ideas doesn't mean I'm some spacy guy with no root in reality."

"When you do it with facts, that's fine, but I'm not sure you based this excursion off of much than random ideas in your head," Frank retorted.

"Ideas that landed us a prime suspect," Joe shot back.

"Boys!" Nancy nearly shouted. "I think you're getting a bit ridiculous. Joe, you need to make sure you keep your partners informed of what's going on, like you told me. No more messages making it sound like you're in danger with no resolution for us. Frank, you have to realize that Joe can't get information to us every second, and that he can go do his own thing as a detective, even if we _are_ working together."

After Nancy's little speech, the brothers took a moment to settle back down. "You're right, Nancy," Joe admitted. "It was stupid of me to send a text like that without giving you guys more information. I just got a little lost in what was happening that I completely forgot."

"Thank you, Joe." Nancy turned to the older brother. "Now it's your turn."

Frank sighed. "Yeah, I overreacted a little bit. I think it's the big brother gene in me, but I can't let that take over my thought process, since Joe is an adult and can do things on his own."

"Perfect. Now that we've aired out the room, let's get to what Joe was talking about," Nancy said. "What exactly happened?"

Joe explained his whole encounter with Monroe to his partners, from when the suspect approached his vehicle to Joe finally turning the corner off the street.

"Okay, Frank, you can't disagree, that _is_ a little suspicious," Nancy said once Joe finished his story. "That was a pretty blatant threat, at least in my opinion."

"No! No no no no no," Joe interjected before his brother could respond. "You missed the big thing, the _important_ thing."

"And what is that?" Frank asked.

"Something about my conversation with him wasn't sitting right with me," Joe began to explain. "I couldn't figure it out until I started walking through our entire exchange, bit by bit. Then I realized that when he was talking about the police investigations, he didn't say the murder and the kidnapping. No, he called it the _Valdez_ case and the kidnapping. The name of the victim hasn't been released yet. We only know because we're working with the police!"

After a long pause, Frank spoke. "Well, it seems like Howard isn't really the guy he seems to be. At least, when I interact with him."

"He's an actor, Frank," Nancy pointed out. "It's part of the job description to be able to pretend to be someone else."

The older boy was still having a tough time wrapping his head around the whole situation. Howard had never been anything but pleasant, if a little distant at times. To think that that man could have something to do with the disappearance of the three boys, the murder of a man, and the attempted murder of Henry's mother. . .

"We need to do some digging on Howard Monroe," Frank finally said. "If nothing else, we need to find a connection between him and Valdez. We know one exists if he knows Valdez is our murder victim. If we can locate it, we'll be able to gather some more information on our murdered man."

"Good idea," Joe said. "I can go talk to Chief Collig and see if he has any information about our prime suspect."

"I want to chill here and do my own research on him," Nancy stated. "If I can piece together a generic timeline of his life thus far, we can certainly narrow our search for information on Valdez."

"You should keep an eye out for anything having to do with Nevada, since that's the state where Valdez got his license." Frank stood up and stretched, having added the finishing touches to the moon prop. He had to admit, he and Nancy could make a damn good full moon. "Since you guys didn't make the stop yesterday, I'm gonna head over to see the M.E. and find out more about how the victim died."

Having assembled their plan, the team split. Nancy set up shop in her room with both her and Frank's computers, while the boys headed to their respective destinations.

As soon as Frank walked into the M.E.'s office, his nose was hit with that stark smell of hospital cleanliness. It always amazed him that here he was, near a slew of dead people, yet it seemed to have the same odor as that where the living were kept.

"Frank!" The petite older woman stood up and came around her desk, shaking his hand.

"Hi, Sarah." Frank could never quite get away from the thought that the M.E. had a very striking physical resemblance to the stereotypical witch. It was unfortunate, because she really was very nice to both him and his brother, but sometimes, once a thought is there, there's no getting rid of it.

"How's Joe? And Fenton?" Dr. Jones had been employed for a long time, long enough to remember Mr. Hardy's days working as a detective with the police, rather than freelancing. "How about some cookies? I made these up a couple nights ago for Greg's return, but he was held up a few more days."

Greg Jones was the son of the M.E. He was several years older than Frank, in his late twenties, but the boy still knew him well enough. At the moment, Frank had heard that Greg was working down in Antarctica, though what he did as a young brilliant scientist the detective wasn't quite sure.

"I would love a cookie, Sarah. Thanks." It was almost as if the boys had a third mother, on top of Mrs. Hardy and Aunt Trudy. Granted, this one worked long hours surrounded by dead bodies, but Frank didn't care. "So, I'm here on business."

Sarah nodded. "I was wondering when you or your brother were going to stop by once the chief passed along your names as consultants. Oh, and Nancy Drew! You really must introduce me to her, you've mentioned her when we've discussed your other cases, she sounds like a lovely girl, and with a sharp mind, too. Oh! It makes me so happy to see more young women showing an interest these days in this line of work, catching criminals and all that jazz."

Once the doctor's waterfall of thoughts came to an end, Frank finally answered. "I'm sure you'll get to meet her at some point, but right now we need to focus on the case. Joe, Nancy, and I have been throwing around some thoughts and ideas about the murder, but we haven't stopped to really examine the documents outlining any evidence at the crime scene or on the body."

"Well, I can't help you with the evidence at the scene," Sarah pointed out, "but the body? You came to the right place."

"I would be concerned if I was in the wrong place, given the dead bodies that are locked away around here."

Sarah smirked, shaking her head. "Be careful what you say around the dead, dear. Just because their bodies don't work anymore doesn't mean their souls are trapped." This side of the M.E. was a new part of her that Frank was only just becoming familiar with. It surprised him that a woman of such high scientific stature would have such rooted beliefs in spirits and demons and the like.

"So what have you discovered in your autopsy?" Frank asked.

"There's nothing really out of the ordinary," Sarah replied as she led her guest over to the exam table. She pulled back the sheet, and the face of Isaac Valdez, only much paler and with a pretty brutal gash in his head, stared up at the two. "Other than, you know, the fact that it's a homicide. But I assume that you already have been working the case as if it was a murder, regardless."

"The circumstances of his death were pretty suspicious," Frank said, "so yes, we went with that. Anything else we should know?"

"Frank, do you really think I would make you sit around here and then tell you nothing you didn't already know?" Sarah clucked in jest. "Well, he clearly hasn't spent a ton of time in Bayport recently, given his nice farmer's tan. If only I could tan like that, but with the pretty constant rain we've had it's been near impossible. But aside from Mr. Valdez's tanning, yes, there's more that you'll be quite interested to know."

"First off, the official cause of death is blunt force trauma to the head," she said. "Judging by the angle of the blow, the murderer would have to be at least five and a half feet tall to reasonably generate enough force. Of course, we're assuming that the murder weapon was a handheld one."

"You mean it could've been something large and heavy?" Frank asked. "Like a large crate, or something like that?" If the blow had come from something that wasn't held in one's hand, then all bets about the physical description of the murderer were off, and anyone could be suspected. That included a ten-year-old kid or three.

Sarah shook her head. "I didn't say that. I found wood fibers around the point of impact, and the fractures to the skull seem to indicate a round object rather than a flat one, but that description didn't fit anything that the investigators found at the crime scene from what I've been told. The killer likely took the weapon with them when they left the room, so it couldn't have been anything that wasn't easily carried."

Phew. The three boys were back off the table. At least for the murder. The license still suggested to Frank that they somehow got involved in what happened at the theater, as much as he hated to admit it.

"In terms of evidence left behind by the culprit, I really don't have much else," Sarah told the detective. "Although, I think I can make one more statement about the physical characteristics of him or her."

Frank raised his eyebrows. "Yeah? And what's that?"

Sarah pointed to the location of the nasty wound on Valdez's head. "See where this is? In order to generate that much impact to the skull, the killer must have wound up and then hit our victim. Taking that fact and pairing it with the direction of the blow, I'd be pretty confident in saying our perp is left-handed."

 **So, between Joe's hunch and Frank's talk with the M.E., it seems the detectives are starting to get the facts they need to get a clear picture of this case. Next chapter this fact-finding will continue as Joe and Nancy take a closer look at a certain Howard Monroe. But you'll have to wait a week for that. ;)**


	9. Chapter Nine: The Riveting Research

**DISCLAIMER:** None of the Hardy Family, Drew Household, or any other characters featured in the Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew books belong to me. All other suspects and characters are of my own creation.

 **Author's Note** : **This new chapter was quite fun for me as a writer, and I think you'll understand why by the end of it** **. Plenty of sleuthing, with just a dash of suspicion and intrigue. . . let me present you with Chapter Nine!**

Curiosity had killed, and would continue to kill, the cat.

The appearance of Joe Hardy at his house could only mean one thing to Howard Monroe: the Hardy Boys were investigating the death of Isaac Valdez.

"A damn shame," Howard muttered as he stalked back inside. While he couldn't care less for the younger one, Frank had begun to grow on him as they worked together. At first he'd been wary, given the boy's proficiency at detective work. And yet, he sort of had that irresistible charm about him that couldn't be ignored.

The actor walked through the living room, opening the closet door and then sliding open the secret panel hidden behind his sweatshirts and winter gear. He began to shuffle through the shelves. "No, not that. . . or those. . . where is it? I know it's in here. . ." His hand finally fell upon what he had been searching for. He pulled it out and closed up the panel as well as the closet.

"Alright, let's be done with all this," he said, heading for the door.

* * *

Upon his arrival at the police station, Joe was greeted by none other than Chief Collig himself.

"Joe, my boy!" The chief gave him a big handshake as he walked past the officer working at the front desk. "Here, come into my office." The bulky man led the way into a medium-sized room which seemed to have just the right amount of furniture and decorations to make it seem homey without feeling claustrophobic.

"So, you mentioned that you three have come up with a prime suspect," Chief Collig said, closing the door behind the detective. "Please, sit."

Joe accepted the invitation and sank into the comfy cushions of one of the two chairs across from the chief's desk. "So, as of right now, this is based on some things that we've noticed over the past couple of days. Nothing solid, but enough that we think it warrants a closer look."

"Go on."

"There's an actor by the name of Howard Monroe," Joe explained. "His temperament seems to have changed since the kidnapping and murder, and he's said some rather suspicious things."

Chief Collig eased himself into his chair. "Well, I'm not surprised he's acting a bit strangely. Keep in mind, it's easier for you and Frank to handle the emotions that come with these sorts of cases, but for those who aren't in the crime-solving business, these situations can make behavior erratic in strange ways."

"Well, he did threaten me," Joe argued. "I don't remember exactly what he said, but he warned me that if I continued to investigate I would become like a victim in this case. You can't tell me that so-called 'erratic behavior' could lead to that."

The chief shrugged. "It's a little suspicious, I agree, but you just said yourself that he warned you. Maybe it was just that – a warning. With two major crimes committed, people attached to these cases are bound to be a bit paranoid."

Joe shook his head vigorously. "No, no. It was in the tone of his voice. He definitely meant it as a threat. And even if you don't agree with me on that or on the strange behavior, you'll have to agree with me that it's well beyond 'the situation' that he happens to know the identity of our dead murder victim, who happens to be from nowhere close to here."

Joe felt a large degree of satisfaction when the chief's eyebrows shot up. "We haven't released the name Isaac Valdez yet since we've been struggling to find family to inform of his passing. And where do you think he's from?"

The detective realized they had never told Chief Collig about the license or the bike. He filled in the missing gaps for the policeman, explaining how they had stumbled upon the evidence.

"When were you going to tell me about all that?" Chief Collig asked after Joe had finished. "It's not like we've already seen each other once today. . . oh, wait. . ."

"We had bigger priorities this morning at the crime scene," Joe argued, "and everything's been happening so fast that none of us have really had the time to stop in. The case has only been going now for two days."

"And it's after we hit that 48-hour mark that the chances of us finding those kids begins to drop," the chief shot back.

"With all due respect, sir, we've yet to be informed of any leads that your officers have found and looked into for the kidnapping or murder." Joe regretted saying it the instant the words left his mouth, but he was relieved to watch concern flicker across the chief's face rather than anger.

"You have a point," Chief Collig grumbled. "My men didn't find much in the way of useful evidence at the crime scene of the murder. Everything they've pursued has been a dead end. As for the kids, well, it seemed up until Frank found that bike that they had disappeared without a trace."

Joe nodded. "Given the fact that we found Valdez's license with the bike of one of the boys, as well as the small bloody footprints, it seems reasonable to look at the murder and the kidnapping as connected. We don't have much to go on in our pursuit of finding the three boys, but if we can find out who might have the motive to murder our victim, wrapping up the case and getting those kids home will be easy."

The chief nodded back. "I'll get one of our researchers on it right away. Let me know if and when you find something else. And preferably don't wait, say, a day."

Joe grinned. "Hey, I try my best." With that, he left the station and met up with Frank at the car.

"Find out anything interesting from Sarah?" he asked as his brother approached.

"Not a ton of evidence she found that can easily locate our killer," Frank admitted, "but she did have a few good pieces of info. Like the fact that our culprit is likely left-handed, and at least five and a half feet tall."

Joe shrugged, hopping into the passenger seat. "We can rule out any of those kids, then. And lefties aren't as common as those of us not cursed by the devil."

"Oh, shut up," Frank said, giving Joe a light punch. His younger brother took every moment his left-handedness came up as an opportunity to remind him that he was the devil's spawn, according to myth.

The two brothers discussed their separate meetings as they drove, so Joe didn't realize that they weren't going home only when Frank pulled into the parking lot of a tanning salon. "Um, bro, I know you haven't got much of a tan going on this summer since you've been locked up in that auditorium or your room, but – "

"We are not here to tan, Joe." Frank sighed, shaking his head. "Sarah also mentioned that Valdez had some pretty good tan lines, but given how dreary the weather has been here in general this summer, he either just arrived recently, or went to a tanning salon."

Joe groaned. "Please don't tell me we're gonna hit up every place with a tanning bed in Bayport."

"And the surrounding places, too." Frank got out of the car, and Joe followed suit, whimpering. "Oh, stop. I'll buy you a late lunch while we make the rounds."

Lunch sounded like a great idea to Joe, and he was willing to do a little boring detective work if it was the only thing that stood between him and a nice big burger. "Alright, you have yourself a deal."

Two hours and two burgers later, the detectives finally rolled into their driveway, exhausted from all their work.

"Have you heard from Nancy at all?" Joe asked as he unbuckled.

Frank shook his head. "I'm hoping that means that she's super into her work, as opposed to she didn't find anything interesting or of use."

The brothers made their way inside, eager to find out what progress Nancy had made. They went straight to her room, saying hello to their aunt as she made dinner and dessert in the kitchen, and found Nancy sprawled out on the floor. She was typing furiously on her laptop, with pages and pages of various articles and images strewn around her, and Frank's computer sitting open but asleep on her bed.

"Well, it looks like someone's been busy," Joe commented.

Nancy jolted and whipped her head around. "Jeez, I didn't even hear you two come in." She indicated all of her research. "I've been pretty into my work."

Frank laughed. "Really? We couldn't tell. I hope you didn't use all three reams of paper in dad's office to print all this info."

"Whatever, drama queen," Nancy responded, rolling her eyes. She closed her laptop and began to gather all the papers around her, shuffling them as she went. "So what did you guys find out? Because we save the best for last, and nothing you guys have can top what I've found."

"My my, someone's confident," Joe remarked. "But looking at how much you've gathered, you're probably right."

The Hardy Boys explained to Nancy what they had discovered from their visits with the chief and the M.E.

"Well, Joe, you didn't really find out anything useful." Joe was about to give a snarky reply, but Nancy held up her hand. "Nothing on you, more on the police department. They don't seem to be much help." She turned to Frank. "At least with you, we now have a better idea of some physical features our culprit possesses."

"Quit dragging your tail and cut to the chase." Frank grinned. "Unless, of course, you don't have anything good."

That earned him what could only be called a cocky glare from Nancy. "Oh, get ready to find out everything you always wanted to know about Howard Monroe, including some things you probably don't need to know. So, first off, Howard Monroe is quite the traveler. Despite being in his 30s, he's lived in 21 states that I know of, including, you guessed it, Nevada."

Joe nodded. "So we've got a potential connection to Valdez."

"Sure, but we can't just say they're connected because they've been in the same state," Nancy replied. "So I focused on his life in Nevada, but got nowhere. He was in a few productions of various shows there, usually in a lead role, and then moved on. From what I've been able to find, he hasn't stayed in the same state for more than a year or so, with the exception of one: Ohio."

"But Ohio doesn't mean anything in connection to this case," Joe said, frowning.

"Joe, Nancy's got _the look_ going on," Frank responded. "That means she's got something more about this Ohio business."

"You bet I do," Nancy said. "I went back through some of the other states where Howard Monroe has lived. In all of them, he makes some small cash while acting, but doesn't appear to ever pick up a full-time job."

"That begs the question, how is it he can afford to keep moving around the country without a steady cash flow?" Frank asked.

"Give the Hardy a cookie." Nancy grinned. "I couldn't figure out where our suspect was getting enough money to be hopping from state to state with relative financial ease. I decided that the only place he could've theoretically held down a long-term job was in Ohio. And while there wasn't any indication of him working there, either, I did find some interesting people Howard Monroe was connected to while in the state."

In dramatic fashion, Nancy slammed down a printed page in front of the two brothers, making them both jump.

"Mob Boss Faces Consecutive Life Sentences," Joe read. "Wait, what!? You were able to find a connection between Monroe and Jim Gray?"

Nancy nodded. "Howard Monroe was actually on the jury who originally tried the case. But in a different article. . . " The girl detective shifted through her papers and pulled out another news headline. "I discovered that he was being taken to court for feeding Gray and his lawyers information about how to sway the jury based on what he was seeing. Of course, all charges were dropped, but it did cause a mistrial. Gray ended up being convicted by the second jury."

The two brothers sat in stunned silence. "Well," Frank finally said, "if he pissed off the mob because he botched their leader's chance to mess with the system and get him found not guilty, that could explain why he's been bouncing from state to state ever since. He's on the run."

"Boys, Nancy, it's dinner time!" Aunt Trudy called from the kitchen.

"We can continue looking into this later," Frank said. "Good work, though, Nancy."

"Oh, just you wait," she declared, "I've got even more information that could help us after we eat."

The three detectives closed up shop in Nancy's room and headed to the dining room.

* * *

Maverick Lurie was hungry.

It had to have been at least 12 hours since they'd received food last. Every time he tried not to think about the gnawing pit in his stomach, it would growl, constantly reminding him of how much he wanted, no, _needed_ food.

Luckily, it seemed as if his captor was somehow aware of his hunger.

"Cliff, I think someone's coming!" The two boys hopped up, running to the door and pounding with as much might as they could muster. "Help! Someone, help us! Please, we're locked in here!"

"Shut up!" they heard someone hiss through the door. The two boys backed up as the door slowly began to open.

Maverick wasn't quite sure who their kidnapper was. He had discussed it for hours with Cliff, since it was the only topic they could talk about without getting homesick and teary-eyed. For two ten-year-old boys, even ones who had been kidnapped, crying in front of each other was the height of embarrassment. It had been quite an embarrassing couple of days for both of them.

Henry had known the man, that they knew for sure. He wore baggy clothes and a ski mask whenever he interacted with them, but as soon as he had started talking to the boys, their friend's eyes shot wide open in recognition.

Maverick missed Henry.

"Alright, let me explain to you two how this is gonna go," the man said gruffly. The gun in his hand drew Maverick's attention, and he couldn't help but be transfixed by it. "We need each other's help, so we're gonna do a deal of you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours."

"Why should we help you?" Maverick twisted his head around, staring at his friend. How could Cliff be so bold as to stand up to their captor!? He had a gun!

"The police have no clue where you two are right now," the man sneered. "But, if one of you is willing to lend me a hand, I'll allow both of you to escape."

Maverick's heart leapt. Their kidnapper was going to let them go!?

Apparently, Cliff was suspicious. "Why would you do that?"

"So many 'why' questions from you, kid, it's really quite annoying," their captor muttered. He turned to Maverick and grabbed hold of his arm, squeezing until it was bordering on painful. "You're the one I need, though. You're the one who saw everything."

Maverick had tried so hard to block it all out. What he had seen – it just didn't make sense. It didn't process properly. He must have been overtired, or imagining things.

But he knew what he had seen was real. Being trapped in this hut proved it was real. That was the scary part. He couldn't even bear to think about it. Whenever Cliff brought it up, Maverick shut him down.

"So, you see this?" The man pulled let go of him and pulled something out of his pocket, but Maverick had no clue what it was. "This is a bomb. A bomb which can be remotely detonated, might I add. It's going to sit in here with your friend, and the detonator will go with me wherever I go."

Maverick's mouth went dry. He opened his mouth, not sure of what he was going to say, but what came out was little more than a squeak.

The man smiled at the boy's clear discomfort. "Good. Apparently I don't need to state what's going to happen if you don't follow my exact instructions."

Maverick just nodded. What was it that he could do for their kidnapper while still locked up in the middle of who knows where?

"I need you to be the first one to return to the city," their captor explained. "While your buddy will be stuck here, you will be miraculously found, then probably taken to the hospital to run some tests. At some point, the police will want to talk with you about everything that happened at the auditorium."

Maverick listened intently as the man continued on with his instructions, hanging on every word to know how not to screw up – and how to get himself and his friend out from under their kidnapper's thumb.

 **Some very interesting new perspectives in this chapter for sure. Clearly the kidnapper is playing at some sort of game, but what is he up to? Despite these new viewpoints, I'm sure you readers are left wondering about plenty of things. Don't worry, all will come to light in due time.**


	10. Chapter Ten: The Astounding Appearance

**DISCLAIMER:** None of the Hardy Family, Drew Household, or any other characters featured in the Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew books belong to me. All other suspects and characters are of my own creation.

 **Author's Note** : **So it appears that our detectives have themselves a suspect. Of course, with our behind-the-scenes look, it seems that this mystery is much more complex than one might think. Coming at you right now is Chapter Ten!**

Once dinner (and, more importantly, Aunt Trudy's famous dessert) had been eaten, the three detectives retired to Nancy's room once again to continue discussing the case.

"So you mentioned that there was more you found," Frank said once they were settled in. "What was it?"

Nancy felt bad for Frank. Sure, she was always working cases and rarely got downtime, but she knew that the worst feelings with cases weren't when they popped up during a vacation. It was when the cases hit close to home that sometimes ended up hurting the worst. For her, Henry was just another kidnapping victim, and Howard was just another suspect. For Frank, these people were friends with whom he'd worked for weeks and weeks to put something together. There was a certain trust that was built.

And now it was time to break down that trust Frank had with Howard Monroe. He was guilty, and she knew it.

"Let me briefly recap to make sure I'm not missing anything," Joe said. "Monroe doesn't appear to have a connection to Isaac Valdez, but he _does_ appear to have a connection to the mob in Ohio."

Nancy grimaced. "You're partially right. I continued my research into what Howard Monroe was up to during the one time in his life he wasn't constantly moving. My first idea was the same as yours, that he has been on the run ever since." She grabbed the final photograph and showed it to the boys. "That's outside the courthouse, though I've lost track of which article this came from."

The Hardy Boys stared at it in detail. Howard Monroe could be seen walking down the sidewalk, toward Jim Gray, who stood on the steps. "I'm not sure what we're supposed to be looking at," Frank admitted.

Nancy grabbed a red pen from her bag, and circled both Monroe and Gray. "It's become blatantly obvious that these two have a history together. But Gray isn't the person I care about in this picture. No, this photo establishes another connection." She circled a third person, who was standing about 15 feet down the steps from the mob boss.

Joe squinted. "Wait, is that – "

"Yep." Nancy grabbed her laptop and pulled up a digital image. "Remember that friend of Ryan's who's helping us figure out who broke in? I got Ryan to pass along the online image to his friend early in the afternoon, and just before you two rolled in I got a more vivid picture back from him."

It was Isaac Valdez.

"This is some pretty damning evidence," Joe muttered.

As much as it hurt Frank to agree, he did. Here he was, friends with someone who had some sort of mob connection. And to boot, this friend was likely a murderer.

"It can't be a coincidence that both Howard Monroe and Isaac Valdez are in the same picture with the one and only Jim Gray," Nancy reasoned. "My working theory is that Monroe fled from the mob after he botched up the trial, and Valdez was assigned to track him down and silence him. And that assignment ended here in Bayport."

"Then it was self-defense," Frank mumbled.

"What's that, Frank?"

Frank shook his head in an effort to unjumble his thoughts. It didn't work. "He's seemed like a good guy for as long as I've known him. Maybe he just got caught up in what the mob was doing. Then he was disillusioned and fled, and the only reason he killed Valdez was because otherwise the reverse would've happened."

Nancy shrugged. "Seems like it could be a possibility, but that still doesn't explain the missing kids. Even if they had walked in on him killing Valdez, he could've plead self-defense in court. Instead, it looks like he kidnapped them."

It was late, and Frank was done with this conversation. He excused himself, grabbed a glass of water, and went to bed without saying goodnight to anyone.

"Yikes," Joe murmured as his brother creaked up the stairs. "He's taking this one pretty rough."

"I can't blame him," Nancy pointed out. "He's built a relationship with this guy over the course of the summer. I built a relationship with Ryan in a much shorter timespan, and the thought as we approached the end of the case that he could actually be behind it all rocked my world, and not in a good way."

Joe nodded as he and Nancy went to the kitchen to grab a quick snack of cheese and crackers. "I remember I was so mad at you for getting too close to the suspects involved in the case. This time around, Frank didn't really have the option to stay detached."

The two detectives continued to reminisce about their case in Maine, before also heading to their respective rooms to sleep.

What felt like only a few minutes later, Frank's alarm was buzzing in his ear. He groaned and reached over, turning it off with a flick of his finger.

Despite being a Sunday, Craig had insisted that they add a practice to the schedule in order to compensate for the missing young actor and the added stresses of the show. How adding more practices would take some of the stress off, Frank wasn't sure, but he'd learned that it wasn't smart to cross Craig, especially at such a critical time in the production.

The detective grabbed a bagel and a hardboiled egg to go and arrived at the auditorium early, even before Craig. Frank unlocked the door and brought the large moon prop in, making a beeline to the backstage door, where the ramp would allow him to roll the moon up to the stage level rather than hoisting it over the lip.

Frank took a good half hour to set up the prop, in which time most of the other cast and crew had arrived. It served him well to get his hands a little dirty, and the physical exertion helped to ratchet down his mental exertion with the case. It wasn't until roll call that he realized only one person was missing from the group, aside from Nigel's son.

"Where's Howard at!?" Craig barked. Everyone looked around at each other, shrugging and murmuring. The director pointed at Lily. "You usually give Howard a ride to practice. Where is he?"

"I'm not sure, Craig," Lily replied, baffled. "He usually texts me if he needs a ride, but he didn't. I texted him to find out if he needed a ride, but I never heard back."

A string of curses let loose in Frank's head. He couldn't fool himself anymore. The last thing they needed was the prime suspect in the case fleeing town, particularly if he had indeed abducted the kids.

"Well, even though he's one of the main characters, we need to practice," Craig growled. "We can't wait for him. Frank, you're in charge of calling him right now. If he doesn't pick up, I'll – "

"Yeah, I'll go call him," Frank said, cutting his director off. "You let me worry about Howard, you just focus on the show."

While the actors took their places and Craig sank into his usual spot among the auditorium seats, Frank exited into the lobby and pulled up Howard's number. After several rings, the phone went to voicemail.

"Damn," Frank muttered. Something must've tipped off Howard that the trio of detectives were looking into him. The only thing that made sense was Joe appearing at his house.

"Oh well," Frank said to himself. "What's done is done. Hindsight is always 20/20." He then dialed Joe's number, and again was sent to voicemail. "Of course. He's probably out like a light right now." Like the previous morning, his next option was his mother, who he knew was awake.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Mom," Frank greeted her. "Sorry to use you as a messenger between me and Joe again, but could you go wake him up and have him call me?"

"Is this about the case? Please tell me there hasn't been another explosion," his mother replied worriedly.

"There wasn't an explosion yesterday, it didn't detonate properly," Frank reminded her. "But yes, it's about the case. I need him to do something for me."

Some incomprehensible noises came across the phone for a brief second, and then Frank was surprised by a new voice. "Morning, Frank. What's up?"

"Nancy! You're up early," Frank said. "So, we may have a problem."

"Alright, what happened?"

Frank told her about Howard's absence from practice. "I'm afraid he may have skipped town on us. Can you go to his house and check in to see if there's any signs he's still around?"

"Sure thing," Nancy responded.

Before she hung up, one more thought crept into Frank's head. If there was one thing the stage manager had grown to love about Howard, it was that he always planned for the short- and long-term future. Now that trait seemed irreversibly wretched. "And Nancy, wake up Joe and bring him with you. It could be possible that Howard is trying to set a trap for us. He's someone who likes to be three steps ahead, and I would feel a lot more comfortable if you backed each other up."

"Is this because I didn't get you or Joe up when I heard someone breaking in?"

Frank sighed. "Maybe a little. I just know Howard pretty well, and he's that guy who always has his lines down before anyone else, who comes in after a day of blocking practice and has everything on point like he's been practicing. If he really _is_ behind all this, he knows we're looking into him after his encounter with Joe yesterday. As much as I hate to admit it, he has a lot of traits that made him a great actor which could also make him a great criminal."

A long pause. "Okay, I'll bring Joe with me," Nancy finally agreed.

Frank breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you. Call me if you find anything or need me. If it's related to Howard I'm sure I can use that to my advantage if I need to leave practice."

"Sounds good. Bye." Nancy hung up the phone, standing up from the kitchen table. It annoyed her that Frank still didn't quite see her as capable of sleuthing by herself, but in the back of her mind, a small voice reminded her of how lucky she'd already been in escaping relatively unharmed from the intruder.

"Where are you going, Nancy?" Mrs. Hardy asked. She was setting down a beautiful breakfast of eggs and toast with homemade strawberry jam for Nancy.

"I really hate to run out on you like this, Mrs. Hardy, _especially_ after you've made such a wonderful-looking meal," Nancy responded, "but it sounds like there's a chance our prime suspect has skipped town. If it's okay with you, I'm going to wake up Joe so we can go see if our man is still around."

"Oh, absolutely," Mrs. Hardy agreed. "It will do him good to be awake earlier than noon every single day. Would you like me to pack up your breakfast for you?"  
Nancy was starving, but she also knew that time was of the essence and she wouldn't have time once she arrived at Howard Monroe's house to pull out breakfast and eat. Still, she couldn't find the willpower to turn down the meal. "If you could, that would be wonderful."

Nancy ran up the stairs while her host mother pulled out Ziploc bags and a cooler, barging into Joe's room.

"Joe! Get up! I need your help," Nancy told him. With a few shakes, she finally seemed to be able to get through to him.

"What is it?" Joe groaned. "And what time is it?"

Nancy decided it was probably better for her safety not to tell Joe that it wasn't even nine yet, and instead skipped straight to why she needed his help. "Frank called. Apparently Howard Monroe didn't show up at practice today, and nobody in the cast has any idea as to where he might be."

That got Joe's attention. "What!? Do you think he made a run for it?" He hopped out of bed and slid on some shorts and a shirt.

"We aren't sure," Nancy admitted. "That's why Frank needs us up and working right now. He can't leave rehearsal, but someone needs to get over to Howard's place to see if he's gone." The doorbell rang, but Nancy ignored it until Mrs. Hardy's yell.

"JOE! NANCY!" The two detectives perked up as Joe's mother hollered. "Get down here right now!"

"What? What is it now?" Joe called as he jogged down the stairs, Nancy in hot pursuit. The two came face to face with Mrs. Hardy and a rather pale boy with messy brown hair and bright green eyes standing in the entrance hall.

Mrs. Hardy looked up at them. "Joe, Nancy, this boy is – "

"We know," Joe replied, in shock. Nancy was also stunned by who was standing in the Hardy's house. She'd never met him in person, but it was hard not to recognize him, given how many times his image had been shown on the news alongside two other boys.

"Maverick Lurie," she breathed.

"Hi," he said. It was obvious to Nancy that he didn't really know what to say. If she was being honest with herself, she didn't really know what to say, either. A kid who'd been kidnapped with two of his friends and missing for days had just appeared out of nowhere on the front step of the Hardy's.

"Are you hungry?" Nancy was glad that Joe finally broke the silence.

"Oh, of course he's hungry!" Everyone turned to see Aunt Trudy emerge at the top of the stairs. "Let me prep something for him. If he's been held captive for the last few days like we all suspect, I'm sure he's worked up quite an appetite."

"Actually, he can have my breakfast," Nancy suggested. "It's already prepared, so he doesn't have to wait for it."

"Good idea!" Mrs. Hardy exclaimed. "Are you hungry, Maverick?" The boy nodded. "Alright, well, come with me to the kitchen and I'll serve you Nancy's breakfast. How does some eggs with toast sound? I hope you don't mind scrambled eggs."

Once Mrs. Hardy led Maverick into the other room, with Aunt Trudy in tow, Nancy and Joe adjourned to the former's room, since it was on the first floor.

"Okay, what the hell just happened?" Joe asked as Nancy closed the door.

The girl detective's mind was swimming. "I don't know. We'll have to find out what happened to him, but he doesn't seem to be in a very talkative mood."

Joe nodded slowly. "We also have to call the chief to let him know that one of his missing persons is alive and relatively well-looking at my house."

"'Relatively well-looking?' Sounds like someone needs more sleep."

"Yeah, well, I was working on that until you came to wake me up ten minutes ago," Joe pointed out.

"Touché."

Joe pulled out his phone and dialed the chief's number, bypassing the usual way for civilians to get a hold of the police.

"Hi, Chief Collig, it's Joe, and it's been quite the interesting morning thus far. Maverick Lurie showed up at my place this morning." He waited for a moment as the chief responded. "Yes, you heard me right. _The_ Maverick Lurie is sitting in my kitchen eating breakfast as we speak." Another pause. "We'll be eagerly awaiting your arrival, but until then, Nancy and I will see if we can get anything out of the kid. See you in a bit. Bye."

"So?" Nancy asked expectantly.

"Chief Collig is on his way over along with a couple officers who are working the case. He's also calling the paramedics so they can have a look at Maverick to make sure he doesn't need any further medical attention. If and when he's cleared, the police will inform the family and bring the kid back home."

Nancy opened the door to her room again. "Sounds like we have limited time to get our statement from him."

Joe hesitated. "You know, we've still got other leads to be following right now. I hate to say this, but maybe Monroe let one of the prisoners go at the same time he fled town so we'd be less likely to catch him.

"Could be," Nancy replied after a moment's thought. "You still want to go investigate his house and find out where he is, then."

Joe nodded. "Yep. Plus, you and Frank are the ones who work well with kids. Me, I find them annoying more often than not. Unlike my last trip to Monroe's house, though, I'll make sure to keep either you or Frank updated."

Nancy laughed and led the way out of her room and into the kitchen, where most of the meal which was originally been made for her had already disappeared off the plate in front of Maverick. "Yeah, don't go pulling that off-grid stunt again." Joe grinned, then gave his mother and aunt a hug before he left.

Once he was gone, Nancy pulled out the stool next to Maverick and sat down. "So, Maverick." She held out her hand to give him a handshake, but the boy was too focused on finishing off his breakfast to pay any attention to it. "My name is Nancy Drew. I'm a – "

Finally, the boy stopped eating and turned to her. "I know who you are. And boy, do I have a story for you."

 **Lots of twists and turns in that chapter. With only five chapters left, Nancy and the Hardy Boys are left, much like you readers, with more questions than answers. Just when they thought they had it all figured out. . . Oh well. Sometimes (most of the time, as it seems for the three detectives) that's how it goes.**


	11. Chapter Eleven: The Suspicious Secret

**DISCLAIMER:** None of the Hardy Family, Drew Household, or any other characters featured in the Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew books belong to me. All other suspects and characters are of my own creation.

 **Author's Note** **:** **Clearly something's up, with Maverick's release. Of course, there's always two sides to every story. . . not that you'll necessarily understand it, of course. Now available: Chapter Eleven!**

After calling in his reinforcements, Frank returned to his job as stage manager. Craig had requested that Lily fill in for Howard in his absence, making backstage feel even emptier than usual. Frank would've given just about anything for a little bit of Henry's sass to brighten his day.

The detective knew that time was slowly running out to find the three boys. He at least had some hope they were still alive, since the murderer of Isaac Valdez could've easily killed them, too, if they were witnesses. For some reason, they were worth more alive than dead.

One incident didn't seem to jive with everything else: the attempted attack on Valerie Burke in her home. It seemed completely unrelated to the kidnapping and murder, which took place in a short time frame of an afternoon and/or evening.

No, the attack on her only seemed to make sense if the perp was going after her as a target. But why? And could the reason have played a role in her son's kidnapping?

"Frank, get Leila on stage!" Craig howled.

The detective had been so occupied with his thoughts he hadn't noticed that Leila had missed her entrance. Leila Thibodeau was a creature of habit, and she always occupied the same chair in the back corner where she could follow along with the play while staying out of the way. The chair now sat empty.

"Huh, I wonder where she went," he muttered to himself. "Leila! Are you back here?" He got no response. He called again, and finally the dark-haired actress came hustling in through a side door.

"I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed. "I got a phone call from work and I had to take it. Where are we in the script?"

"Let's see," Frank said as he checked his booklet. "We're on your second scene." Leila hustled out on stage, quickly getting into character.

Thankful that he had avoided Craig's ire, Frank stepped away from his post. He knew the script well enough to know it was several pages before he needed to do anything next.

As he meandered through the backstage area, he considered texting Nancy or Joe to find out how the investigation into Howard was going, but decided against it. He didn't want to be overbearing, even if he would've preferred to be the one going to Howard's place and scoping it out.

Leila's phone caught his attention as it lit up from where it sat on her chair. But hadn't she said. . . ?

Frank began mentally retracing her movements after returning to the stage. Never once did she go near the corner, just straight from the back door to the spotlight.

"Hmm," Frank said. "What was she doing if her phone has been sitting here the whole time?"

Perhaps she had two phones, one for work and another for personal use. But if she didn't, that meant she had lied to him about what she had been doing. And in his experience, people didn't tend to lie unless something needs to be covered up.

After rehearsal was over, Frank engaged in some idle chit-chat with Lily while watching Leila's movements closely.

"Yeah, like, I'm pretty sure Patricia is hating on me right now since she had to take the early shift today, but it's not like I can miss practice since we're so close to opening night," Lily said. Frank knew plenty about Patricia, Lily's coworker who, according to a reputable source, was always out to get Lily and likely was the devil in disguise.

"Maybe one day you should do something nice for her," Frank suggested. He eyed Leila as she removed her phone from her purse. She had just put it in the bag only a minute before. "You know, as an unexpected gift."

"No, no, no," Lily said, aghast. "She would think I either screwed something up and wanted forgiveness, which would never happen, the screwing up part or the forgiveness part, or I was playing a prank on her."

Frank shook his head. "Sounds like you need to build some trust, then." Again, Leila removed an item she had put in her purse moments before. It seemed to the detective as if the actress was stalling. But for what? Perhaps whatever she was doing during her disappearance earlier in the rehearsal wasn't finished. If that was the case, everyone else would need to depart before she would make a move.

Lily continued along with the small talk, so Frank checked his watch and put on his best surprised face. "Whoa, we've already been here an extra 15 minutes? I promised my mom I would stop by the grocery store to pick up some deli meat for lunch, so as much as I hate to end this conversation, I do need to get going."

Lily waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, of course! I'm just rambling on here. I'll see you tomorrow, then, and luckily not as early as the past couple days."

Frank said goodbye, then left. He was pleased to see everyone else aside from Leila and Lily had already departed, and the latter was on the way out the door right behind the detective.

First, Frank had to make sure Leila was convinced no one else was around. He slid into the driver's seat of his car and pulled out of the lot, leaving the vehicle parked outside the school instead, where it would be easily accessible from the auditorium, but not easily viewable.

"This should do," he muttered as he hopped out. As someone who spent more time running around the theater than anyone, Frank was aware the rear side of the building, where it attached to the school, didn't have a single window. He used that fact to his advantage as he stealthily approached the building, using his keys to get in through the back door.

Once he was inside and had closed the door behind him quietly, Frank took a moment to simply stand in the silent building. If he wanted to remain out of sight, he would have to let his ears guide him to his target rather than his eyes.

For about a minute, there was no sound to break the engulfing silence which had thrown itself over Frank's ears like a wool blanket. Then he heard a door creak open.

The detective began to silently jog in the direction of the noise, surprised to see his feet (and his ears) taking him closer and closer to the auditorium. After a brief pause outside the side door leading to the backstage area, another squeak as a door closed punctuated the silence.

Frank burst onto the stage in time to see Leila lock the door to the props room shut with a key.

"What are you doing, Leila?"

The woman spun around at the sound of Frank's voice. "Oh! Frank, I thought you had already left."

Frank's eyes narrowed. "That was the point. I know you weren't on the phone earlier when you ditched practice. Now, answer the question. What were you doing in there? And how did you get the key?"

The look of surprise with a dash of fear was replaced on Leila's face with indignation. "What I do in my personal time is none of your business."

"Pardon me for being a little wary, since the props room has been open to the public for less than 24 hours."

"Then am I, as part of the public, not allowed to go in there now?" Leila asked with ice in her voice. "You're grasping at straws. I have places to be. See you tomorrow, detective."

As Leila stormed off in the direction of the exit, she left Frank reeling from her last statement. Did she somehow find out he was working the case? Leila had never referred to him by his job title before. And grasping at straws? That sounded like someone with something to hide.

Fortunately for Frank, he had his key to the props room on him. He opened the door and turned on the overhead light, which buzzed to life after a second or two.

"Alright, focus on looking for things out of the ordinary, and not on the fact that there was a dead body in here a few days ago," Frank instructed himself. He made a thorough sweep of the room, but from what he could tell nothing seemed to be out of place or missing.

"So, what were you doing in here, Leila Thibodeau, with no reason?" the detective wondered aloud. Despite the lack of physical evidence, Leila's behavior seemed suspicious to say the least, and it left Frank wondering if she knew something more than she was revealing about the murder or the kidnapping of the three boys.

Unbeknownst to Frank, Nancy had held a conversation with one of those boys merely a couple hours earlier.

"You – you know who I am?" Nancy asked. Her voice held an edge of surprise, and Maverick instantly knew he'd said too much.

"Of course," Maverick said cautiously. "Everyone knows who Nancy Drew is. You're famous." Until his captor had told him she was on the case, Maverick had never actually heard of Nancy. He needed to get back on track with what he was supposed to be talking about.

"I see," Nancy said. "So I have a lot of questions for you, as you'd expect, but you're also going to have to go through a lot of questions from the police. If you don't want to answer something or are tired of all the questioning, just tell me and I'll ease up."

Maverick nodded once. He didn't like this girl. Well, he did, which was a problem. She was nice, and calm, and reassuring, and pretty. Plus she was a detective. In essence, Nancy Drew was a slip-up waiting to happen. And with Cliff's life on the line, one wrong answer by Maverick could put his friend to death.

The thought of how much power he possessed overwhelmed him.

"So, this may seem a bit obvious from my point of view, but your answer is crucial," Nancy began. "Were you kidnapped?"

Maverick stared at her. It was almost funny, that she considered the idea he'd run away or something of the sort. It also meant she was incredibly thorough at her job. Dang, this was gonna be harder than he thought.

"Well, yeah," he finally said. "I didn't up and leave with Henry and Cliff because I wanted to. How would three kids like us survive on our own without any money?"

There was a twinkle in the detective's eye, and Maverick forced himself to look away. "Good point," his interrogator replied. "Then my next question is, do you know who your kidnapper is?"

"No, I don't know." Maverick kept his eyes down when he said this. With any eye contact, it felt like Nancy could peer into the depths of his soul. Such a thought made him uncomfortable.

"And how did you end up here? Clearly you escaped from your kidnapper, but where are Henry and Clifton? Were they with you?"

This girl was asking all the wrong questions. He wasn't prepared for all this. He'd expected questions about whether he was hurt, or how he escaped, or what information he had which could potentially help in the investigation into the kidnapping or the murder.

Maybe she knows it's all a setup, Maverick thought. She was toying with him, waiting to pounce and accuse him of aiding his kidnapper.

He didn't realize how long he'd been silent until Nancy started to get off the stool next to him and leave the kitchen. "Hey!" he called before he could stop himself.

Nancy turned and looked at him. "What?"

 _Now_ what was he supposed to say? "You're very pretty," Maverick spat out. Wait, what!? That wasn't what he'd been thinking!

Luckily, the detective didn't seem to think too much of it. "Why, thank you," she said with a smile. "If you'll excuse me, though, I want to go grab something real quick before I continue asking you questions."

While she was gone, Maverick's brain flew at a million miles a minute. After her next question, he had to get back on track. He had a story, and he needed to make sure she heard it. And yet, when she returned after a couple minutes, he still couldn't bring himself to say it. It just didn't seem true.

"So," Nancy began gently, "I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but around the same time you and your friends were taken, there was a man who was unfortunately killed." Maverick swallowed hard. "His name is Isaac Valdez, and this is him. I want to know if you recognize him."

Maverick looked closely at the picture the detective set on the counter. He squinted, and tilted his head a little, but even with those adjustments he knew. Whatever picture she had set down in front of him wasn't the man who had been killed.

"Oh, whoops," Nancy said after a moment. "That wasn't the right picture. This is the one." She replaced the image with another, and Maverick's eyes widened.

"So you know this man," the detective said. Crap. He had played right into her little game. "As I'm sure you know, the person in this photo isn't the victim. His name is Howard Monroe, and he's currently the prime suspect for the kidnapping of you and your friends as well as the murder of Mr. Valdez. This is the man who kidnapped you, isn't it?"

Maverick's was reeling from Nancy's trap. He had to get back on stable footing for Cliff's sake. "No," he told the girl, "no, I recognize him because he's been in a photo with Henry I've seen. I was simply concerned that someone so close to Henry had died."

He could tell by the look on Nancy's face she was prepared to ask another question, but the squeal of tires outside ended the conversation before she could grill him more.

"Well," Nancy said, "it looks like the police and the paramedics have arrived. Let's go out to meet them, shall we?"

Maverick stood up and let himself be guided to the entrance hall. Before the titian-haired girl could open the door, though, he steeled himself for one final move. After how much he had already botched his job, it was his only hope.

"Please don't tell the police about our conversation," he pleaded. "I know you know I'm not telling you everything, but there's a reason, and I need you to figure it out, okay?"

His eyes met hers, allowing himself to open up his soul for her inspection, to show her he was telling the truth. "Okay," Nancy finally replied. "Now, we shouldn't keep Chief Collig waiting."

After being checked out by the paramedics, Maverick was whisked away to the police station. Nancy watched the line of squad cars drive away, waiting until the last one vanished from view before going back inside.

"Well, I'm sure his parents will be happy to hear that their little boy is safe and sound," Mrs. Hardy said as Nancy reentered the house.

"Yeah, definitely," she responded, preoccupied with her thoughts. "Have you heard from Joe at all since he left?"

Mrs. Hardy shook her head. "Not unlike him, though. He's bad at this communication thing."

Nancy smirked. "Very true. I have a feeling he'll text or call me if he needs anything or discovers something, but if he gets in touch with you instead, I'll be in my room." She went down the little hallway and turned into her abode, collapsing onto the bed.

The detective had been aware almost immediately that Maverick was hiding something. The averted eyes, strained tone to his voice, the random comment about how pretty she was. . . it all pointed to a secret hiding just beneath the surface.

On his way out, he had even _told_ her he was hiding something. He definitely recognized Howard Monroe as his kidnapper, and yet, he covered for him. Only two things could motivate such a claim: fear of the man, or an allegiance with him. She had a feeling she knew which one it was.

It was strange Howard had released only one of the kids. Unless. . .

Nancy shot up into a sitting position. "He's using them as bait!" she hissed. She _had_ to be right. Maverick was released and given an order, and his friends were still being held hostage so he couldn't say too much.

But if he did whatever he was supposed to do, and the other two boys were released, wouldn't it make it easier to target Howard for the crime? Something didn't line up.

 _BZZZZZZ!_ Nancy had become so lost in her thoughts that she jumped at the sound of her phone ringing. She pulled it out of her pocket and answered.

"Hi Joe," she said. "Did you find Howard? After my talk with Maverick, I think Howard is definitely the kidnapper, but don't tell anyone else, because it's a secret. Long story."

"Um, I'm not so sure about your prediction, Nancy," Joe told her.

What was with the gloomy tone of voice from him? "What's happened?" Nancy asked. "Did he skip town?"

"He's not skipping anywhere, Nancy. Howard Monroe is dead."

 **We're quickly approaching the end of the story, and clearly everything that seemed solidified is now up in the air. I want to thank all of you who have now made it two-thirds of the way through the story with me, and I hope you continue on as it comes to a close.**


	12. Chapter Twelve: The Murdered Man

**DISCLAIMER:** None of the Hardy Family, Drew Household, or any other characters featured in the Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew books belong to me. All other suspects and characters are of my own creation.

 **Author's Note** **:** **While the main suspect has shown up dead, there are still some questionable characters surrounding the situation. The detectives now must make sense of the untimely death of Howard Monroe and figure out how it plays into the big picture. Let me offer you Chapter Twelve!**

"Yes, I swear I'm fine!" It had to have been the millionth time that Maverick had said it to his mother. "Mrs. Hardy fed me breakfast earlier, and the doctors from the ambulance checked me over to make sure I was okay."

"I know, I know," his mom sighed. "I was just so worried about you." She drew him into a deep embrace, and he hugged back halfheartedly. "Alright, I'll leave you be. If you need anything, though, I'll be just down the hall."

Maverick nodded. Finally he would get to be alone. He was certainly happy to see his parents again, but he wasn't out of the woods on the kidnapping front. All he could hope for was that Nancy didn't mention anything to the police but still understood his message.

He laid on his bed, stretching out his arms and legs. When he'd been imprisoned by his captor – had Nancy said his name was Howard? – with Cliff, they weren't given any sort of bedding. The creaky wooden floor had sufficed.

Howard and Cliff. What was he to do about that whole situation? Howard said he wouldn't release Cliff until Maverick told the police about the man who was murdered, but when he'd been interrogated by both Nancy and the cop, he couldn't bring himself to talk about it. And where had Henry even been after they'd been taken by Howard at the auditorium?

Maverick needed answers. There were so many open-ended problems, and only one person he knew of would be able to help him solve everything.

If there was one thing Maverick knew about his mother, it was that she was rather overbearing. He would have no chance to leave home unless it was by sneaking out, since the police issued him strict instructions to remain at his house.

Maverick pulled out a piece of paper from one of his notebooks and wrote a quick note to his mother. Once he'd finished it, he unlocked the latch on his window, tossed his legs over the sill, and landed in the soft grass a few feet below.

* * *

By the time Nancy had arrived at Howard Monroe's residence, the cop cars were already swarming the place.

The detective made her way over to Joe, who was standing in the front yard with Chief Collig.

" – and it seems contrary to everything we've discovered thus far," the police chief was saying as Nancy approached. "Hi there, Ms. Drew. I assume you've been briefed on the situation here."

She shook her head. "Not really, no. Joe told me Howard Monroe is dead inside the house, but that's all I know."

"Well, it looks like my crime techs will be done shortly, so feel free to go inside and take a look around once they're finished," Chief Collig said, shaking Nancy's hand, then Joe's.

"What the hell happened!?" Nancy asked Joe as the chief walked away.

Joe shook his head in disbelief. "When I got here, the house appeared deserted, and there wasn't any sign of a car. I went up to the door and knocked, and it swung open in front of me. That was a bit disturbing, so I went back to the car and grabbed the little hammer that you're supposed to use to break the window if you end up submerged to use as a weapon. Then I went in."

Nancy couldn't believe her ears. "So he really is dead. Our prime suspect."

"Yep, he really is," Joe replied, nodding. "I know, I can't believe it either. I was suspicious of him from the get-go, and then you put together a pretty perfect picture last night, giving him motive to kill Valdez."

"But I _know_ he was the kidnapper," Nancy told him. "Maverick basically said as much."

Joe's brow furrowed. "Wait, the kid identified Monroe as the kidnapper?"

"Well. . ." Nancy trailed off. "I mean, sort of. He showed signs of familiarity with him."

"Nancy, just because he 'showed signs of familiarity' doesn't mean anything," Joe reminded her.

The female detective huffed in frustration. "You don't get it." She looked over at the crime techs, who were exiting the house to talk with Chief Collig. "It seems like the house may be open to be investigated." Sure enough, the chief turned in their direction and gave a thumbs up. "I'll explain it all while we examine the crime scene."

The two friends made their way into Howard Monroe's house. As Nancy walked in, her nose was immediately clogged full of dust and the lurking smell of mold. "Ugh. I don't think our suspect did a great job with keeping up the house."

"Well, if he was only using it as a temporary residence, he probably didn't care much about the state of the place," Joe reasoned.

The first room in the house was a tiny entryway made cramped by the coat rack and floor lamp.

"It's a bit further in the house," Joe said, motioning Nancy on. They walked through a rather dingy kitchen and dining area and ended up in a wide living room in the back of the house.

Nancy didn't see Howard Monroe, but she could smell him. Trying hard not to gag on the stench, she rounded the corner of the couch and stopped in her tracks at the large dark stain on the carpet.

"I take it this is where he was," she said, plugging her nose.

Joe followed suit. "Yeah, but Sarah Jones left right before you got here with the body." He knelt down next to the dark stain. "He was lying face up here, and it appeared he had lost a lot of blood through a hole in his left side. My guess is that it was a bullet, but I can't be positive until we go pay the M.E. a visit."

Nancy noticed a closet door askew. "Maybe the killer needed something from this closet." She approached it and pulled the door open.

Inside, barely visible through all the clothes, was a veritable arsenal of weapons. Various guns of all sizes, tasers, knives, and even grenades were there upon Nancy's quick inspection. "Joe, you may want to see this."

"Ah, I see you've found our smoking gun, Miss Drew. Literally and figuratively." She turned to see Chief Collig entering the room, with an officer close behind.

"Does all of this stuff belong to Howard Monroe?" the detective inquired as she began pulling hangers and clothes out of the closet to get a better look.

"Well, my men just found it a little while ago, so we haven't been able to process it or anything," the chief explained.

Joe took a look in the closet for the first time. "Jeez, there's basically an entire armory in here."

Nancy pointed to the grenades where they sat dormant. "If these do indeed belong to Mr. Monroe, then that's some pretty damning evidence connecting him to one of our three mysteries."

"The attack on Mrs. Burke," Chief Collig agreed. "But what was his motive? And how does he connect to this whole mystery? Did you guys get any further in your investigation of him?"

Joe grimaced. "Yeah, about that, chief. . ."

"We didn't get the chance to pass along some of the information we found, with how busy we've been," Nancy explained, jumping to Joe's rescue. "Between the Maverick situation and now this, there's been a lot going on, but we did find some useful information."

Nancy proceeded to outline the link between Howard Monroe and Isaac Valdez, with Joe adding his two cents every so often. The female detective was tempted to disclose the ideas her conversation with Maverick had generated, but decided to honor the boy's wishes to keep the interview a secret until she could get him talking for real, as opposed to his weird and cryptic messages.

When the two detectives were done, the chief just stroked his chin in deep contemplation for a minute or two. It had been a long enough pause that when he finally spoke, both teens jumped a little, as did the officer with them.

"I must say, Miss Drew, you do some fine work as a detective," he said, patting her on the shoulder. "You put together a good story, and I presume Joe came here to find some solid evidence to back up your theory."

"Not quite," Joe said. "Frank called this morning from rehearsal and told us Monroe was absent from practice, which struck him as odd and disturbing, given what we had discovered."

"Both of us were going to come investigate to see if he was still around, but then Maverick showed up," Nancy added.

The police chief shook his head as the police officer with them departed to take a phone call. "This whole case is one giant mess. I know the phrase about making sure the theory fits the facts rather than vice versa, but all the facts fit your theory until this morning, it seems."

"Chief, I've got something you'll want to hear," the tag-along officer said as he returned to the trio. He stood there for a minute, not saying anything.

"Well? What is it?" Chief Collig demanded.

"Um, are you sure you want me to disclose it in front of these two?" the man asked.

The police chief looked at the officer as if he had grown six heads. "If it has anything to do with this case, which is the only thing I want to hear about right now, then it can be discussed with our consultants."

"Okay, okay," the policeman said, holding his hands up. "Brody called in from the station. Sounds like there's been an anonymous tip about the location of the two missing boys, Clifton Rey and Henry Burke."

Chief Collig perked up at the news. "Thanks for the message, Grigson. Did he pass along where the location is?"

Grigson nodded. "Apparently it isn't actually too far from here. There's a shack about a mile out from this house in the woods."

"And you didn't think to lead with that!?" Chief Collig roared. He took a deep breath, in and out, then turned to Nancy and Joe. "You're both young and spry. How do you feel about taking a hike into the woods?"

"I'm down," Joe responded immediately.

Nancy, however, was a bit more reluctant. When she had chosen her outfit of a sundress and sandals that particular morning, she hadn't been planning on a trek through the forest. "If it's okay with you guys, I'd rather stay and wait for a report."

The police chief nodded. "Alright. Joe, you take Officer Grigson with you out to the supposed location of the boys." He glared at the policeman, then turned back to the teen. "And take a quick pace out there. The sooner we get info, the better."

After the two men had left, the chief and Nancy spent a few minutes going back over the crime scene.

"Now, whoever did this probably isn't a first-time killer," Chief Collig told the detective. "There was no trace of anyone having been in the house other than the dead body and the fact that there was no trace."

It took Nancy a moment to understand what the police chief meant. "So the murderer cleaned up after himself. I'm wondering if there's some sort of mob tie-in with this. It can't be a coincidence two known associates of Jim Gray end up dead in the same town within a couple days of each other."

Chief Collig nodded slowly, thinking through what Nancy said. "True. Maybe we're looking at this from the wrong angle. The big reason you suspected Howard Monroe was because of his connection with Isaac Valdez and Jim Gray. What if there's a third person involved with the mob, and was tasked with killing both Valdez and Monroe?"

Nancy considered the idea, but one part of the theory bugged her. "I'm not so sure, particularly if this anonymous tip pans out. The close proximity between the holding place for the kids and here seems mighty coincidental, especially after –" Nancy trailed off, still not willing to share the contents of her conversation with the one kid who had managed to get away. Not yet.

Luckily for her, Chief Collig's phone began to ring as she finished. He eagerly grabbed the device and answered. "Ezra Collig here." He listened for a moment. "Okay, Joe, I'm going to put you on speakerphone."

"What did you find, Joe?" Nancy asked.

"I'm not sure who could've figured out where the kids were, but whoever gave the anonymous tip was right. We entered the building and didn't find Henry Burke, but Clifton Rey is here. He's definitely malnourished, and isn't in any shape to do much of anything, but he's alive."

Both Nancy and the chief breathed a deep sigh of relief. "Good work, Joe. Thanks for getting out there in a timely fashion. I'll call the paramedics to Howard Monroe's house. Do you think you can get the kid out to us, or should we come into the woods?"

"We probably could get him to you, but it'd probably take longer than if you came to meet with us," Joe replied. "Plus it makes sense for you guys to examine this shack for evidence, since it might be a bit until we get anything out of Clifton."

Chief Collig nodded decisively. "We're on our way then. Send me the coordinates. Bye." He hung up and turned to Nancy. "Sounds like you'll be doing a woods hike anyway. Ready?"

Nancy was about to accept, but another thought popped into her head. With Howard Monroe dead, if he was truly the man Maverick had been afraid of, she could finally get some straight answers.

"I think you guys have got this covered," Nancy told the police chief. "I'd like to go talk to Maverick, since I didn't get much of a chance to interview him. He'll also be happy to hear about Clifton being found, considering they're best friends."

"Good idea," Chief Collig ceded, "but be sure he doesn't spread the news. Not that he'd be able to tell anyone, since he's been quarantined to his house until the investigation is over."

Saying a quick goodbye, Nancy began her walk to the Lurie house. It only took her about fifteen minutes, and the trip gave her a good amount of time to attempt to process everything which had transpired over the course of the day.

First up was the appearance of Maverick Lurie. She'd been so sure after her conversation with him that Howard Monroe had been their man. Everything Maverick said and did seemed to point the blame toward him and him alone.

And then, of course, she'd thought it wouldn't, _couldn't_ get any more baffling than their prime suspect ending up dead. But, voila, one of the other missing boys was found thanks to an anonymous tip.

Unfortunately, Nancy had just begun to figure out what was going on after Maverick's visit. Now, everything was up in the air again. With his connection to the mob and the closet full of weapons, it seemed clear Howard Monroe had been the one to throw the grenade into Henry's house while his mother was inside. But why?

At that moment, Nancy realized someone very important was missing from all the action of the day. Maverick had managed to get away, and Clifton had been found, and Monroe was dead, but where was Henry? She had assumed all three kids were being held in the same location, and yet one of them was still absent.

Just as the detective was approaching her destination, she felt a quick buzz from her pocket. Nancy pulled out her phone and saw a text from Ryan waiting, with some sort of image attached.

 _Here's what you need I hope. Call soon._

The image was of the interior of the Hardy's garage. Nancy realized it was the photo Ryan had captured during her brief scuffle with the intruder.

While the picture quality wasn't great, the detective easily recognized the tall and lanky frame. It was Howard Monroe.

What was going on!?

Nancy took a moment to forward the photo to the Hardy Boys before walking up the driveway leading to the Lurie's house. Was it the fact that she was exhausted, or did the case not make any sense?

She rapped on the door, and moments later a familiar face showed up in the doorway. "Hi Mrs. – oof!"

Mrs. Lurie drew the detective into a tight embrace. "Thank you, _thank you_ , for bringing our son back to us." The woman gave Nancy a peck on each cheek.

She blushed. "I'm very happy your son was found, but I'm afraid I can't take any credit for that."

The mother motioned Nancy into the house. "Please, please, come in." Nancy stepped into the small foyer. Was it just her, or did the place seem brighter than the last time she'd visited? The entire vibe of the home had shifted with Mrs. Lurie's mood. "Now, what brings you here again? I assume you want to talk to Maverick. He doesn't seem very talkative, but he did speak highly of you."

This kid. Nancy had always loved interacting with kids, but her job typically kept her hanging with criminals instead of children. It was a nice change of pace. "Well, I'm flattered. Is he here right now?"

Mrs. Lurie nodded. "Yes. He's kept to himself in his room since he got back. It's been quiet every time I pass the door, but I assume he's taking a nap. I can't even imagine what my baby's been through the past few days."

Nancy could see the mother's eyes becoming distant and watery, so she grabbed hold of her arm. "He's been incredibly strong, I know it." If only the woman knew the pressure that Nancy was about to remove from her son. "Now, could I see him?"

"Absolutely." Mrs. Lurie brought Nancy down a long hallway, stopping by the final door at the end and knocking. "Maverick! You have a visitor."

When no response came, Nancy gave it a try. "Maverick, it's Nancy Drew. I have some news for you. Some good news." Still nothing.

"He must be sleeping," Mrs. Lurie reasoned. She looked at Nancy. "Did you say it was good news? If so, I'll wake him up."

"Oh, you don't have to do that," Nancy said. "He deserves his sleep."

Mrs. Lurie waved a dismissive hand. "Don't worry about it, it's not every day he gets a visitor, and one bearing good news, to boot." She opened the door and stopped in the entryway.

"What is it?" Nancy asked.

"Maverick!?" Mrs. Lurie called, moving swiftly into the room. Nancy followed, watching the mother spin in a circle in the middle of Maverick's bedroom. She looked at the detective with wide eyes. "I don't know where he is! I didn't hear him ever leave his room."

Nancy glanced over at the window, which sat agape above the small nightstand next to the bed. She moved closer to it, noticing the lack of a screen. Beneath it, on the stand, was a note.

Maverick was gone.

 **I'm sure at this point you as a reader are stumped as to what's going on. If you've actually figured out what happened, many rounds of applause for you, because I'm 99.99% sure I wouldn't be able to solve this one. We're in the final stretch!**


End file.
